OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT   LOS  ANGELES 


THE  GIFT  OF 

MAY  TREAT  MORRISON 

IN  MEMORY  OF 

ALEXANDER  F  MORRISON 


UNLEAVENED 
BREAD 


By  Robert  Grant 

Author  of  "The  Bachelor' t  Christmas,"  etc. 


Charles  Scribner's  Sons 
New  York  ::  ::  ::  ::  ::  1906 


COPYRIGHT,  1900,  BY 
CHARLES  bCKIBNER'S 


CONTENTS 

BOOK  T 
^  THE  EMANCIPATION 

K.  

BOOK  II 
THE  STRUGGLE 


BOOK  HI 

THE  SUCCESS 


42S553 


UNLEAVENED    BREAD 

BOOK  I. 
THE    EMANCIPATION 

CHAPTER  I. 

BABCOCK  and  Selma  White  were  among  the  last  of 
the  wedding  guests  to  take  their  departure.  It  was  a 
brilliant  September  night  with  a  touch  of  autumn 
vigor  in  the  atmosphere,  which  had  not  been  without  its 
effect  on  the  company,  who  had  driven  off  in  gay  spir- 
its, most  of  them  in  hay-carts  or  other  vehicles  capable 
of  carrying  a  party.  Their  songs  and  laughter  floated 
back  along  the  winding  country  road.  Selma,  comfort- 
able in  her  wraps  and  well  tucked  about  with  a  rug, 
leaned  back  contentedly  in  the  chaise,  after  the  good- 
byes had  been  said,  to  enjoy  the  glamour  of  the  full 
moon.  They  were  seven  miles  from  home  and  she  was 
in  no  hurry  to  get  there.  Neither  festivities  nor  the 
undisguised  devotion  of  a  city  young  man  were  common 
in  her  life.  Consideration  she  had  been  used  to  from  a 
child,  and  she  knew  herself  to  be  tacitly  acknowledged 
the  smartest  girl  in  Westfield,  but  perhaps  for  that  very 
reason  she  had  held  aloof  from  manhood  until  now< 


V     UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

:At  Jeasi.-nfr  yo.ijtb  jn  her  neighborhood  had  ever  im- 
pressed her  as  her  equal.  Neither  did  Babcock  so  im- 
press her ;  but  he  was  different  from  the  rest.  He  was 
not  shy  and  unexpressive  ;  he  was  buoyant  and  self- 
reliant,  and  yet  he  seemed  to  appreciate  her  quality 
none  the  less. 

They  had  met  about  a  dozen  times,  and  on  the  last 
six  of  these  occasions  he  had  come  from  Benham,  ten 
miles  to  her  uncle's  farm,  obviously  to  visit  her.  The 
last  two  times  her  Aunt  Farley  had  made  him  spend 
the  night,  and  it  had  been  arranged  that  he  would 
drive  her  in  the  Farley  chaise  to  Clara  Morse's  wedding. 
A  seven-mile  drive  is  apt  to  promote  or  kill  the  germs 
of  intimacy,  and  on  the  way  over  she  had  been  con- 
scious of  enjoying  herself.  Scrutiny  of  Clara's  choice 
had  been  to  the  advantage  of  her  own  cavalier.  The 
bridegroom  had  seemed  to  her  what  her  Aunt  Farley 
would  call  a  mouse-in-the-cheese  young  man.  Whereas 
Babcock  had  been  the  life  of  the  affair. 

She  had  been  teaching  now  in  Wilton  for  more  than 
a  year.  When,  shortly  after  her  father's  death,  she  had 
obtained  the  position  of  school  teacher,  it  seemed  to 
her  that  at  last  the  opportunity  had  come  to  display 
her  capabilities,  and  at  the  same  time  to  fulfil  her  aspi- 
rations. But  the  task  of  grounding  a  class  of  small 
children  in  the  rudiments  of  simple  knowledge  had 
already  begun  to  pall  and  to  seem  unsatisfying.  Was 
she  to  spend  her  life  in  this  ?  And  if  not,  the  next 
step,  unless  it  were  marriage,  was  not  obvious.  Not 
that  she  mistrusted  her  ability  to  shine  in  any  educa- 
tional capacity,  but  neither  Wilton  nor  the  neighboring 
»estfield  offered  better,  and  she  was  conscious  of  a  lack 
of  influential  friends  in  the  greater  world,  which  was 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

embodied  for  her  in  Benham.  Benham  was  a  western 
city  of  these  United  States,  with  an  eastern  exposure  ; 
a  growing,  bustling  city  according  to  rumor,  with  an 
eager  population  restless  with  new  ideas  and  stimulating 
ambitions.  So  at  least  Selma  thought  of  it,  and  though 
Boston  and  New  York  and  a  few  other  places  were  ac- 
cepted by  her  as  authoritative,  she  accepted  them,  as 
she  accepted  Shakespeare,  as  a  matter  of  course  and  so 
far  removed  from  her  immediate  outlook  as  almost  not 
to  count.  But  Benham  with  its  seventy-five  thousand 
inhabitants  and  independent  ways  was  a  fascinating 
possibility.  Once  established  there  the  world  seemed 
within  her  grasp,  including  Boston.  Might  it  not 
be  that  Benham,  in  that  it  was  newer,  was  nearer 
to  truth  and  more  truly  American  than  that  famous 
city  ?  She  was  not  prepared  to  believe  this  an  ab- 
surdity. 

At  least  the  mental  atmosphere  of  Westfield  and  even 
of  the  somewhat  less  solemn  Wilton  suggested  this 
apotheosis  of  the  adjacent  city  to  be  reasonable.  West- 
field  had  stood  for  Selma  as  a  society  of  serious  though 
simple  souls  since  she  could  first  remember  and  had 
been  one  of  them.  Not  that  she  arrogated  to  her  small 
native  town  any  unusual  qualities  of  soul  or  mind  in 
distinction  from  most  other  American  communities,  but 
she  regarded  it  as  inferior  in  point  of  view  to  none,  and 
typical  of  the  best  national  characteristics.  She  had 
probably  never  put  into  words  the  reasons  of  her  confi- 
dence, but  her  daily  consciousness  was  permeated  with 
them.  To  be  an  American  meant  to  be  more  keenly 
alive  to  the  responsibility  of  life  than  any  other  citizen 
of  civilization,  and  to  be  an  American  woman  meant  to 
be  something  finer,  cleverer,  stronger,  and  purer  than 
3 


UNLEAVENED  BKKAI) 

any  other  daughter  of  Eve.  Under  the  agreeable  but 
sobering  influence  of  this  faith  she  had  grown  to  woman- 
hood, and  the  heroic  deeds  of  the  civil  war  had  served 
to  intensify  a  belief,  the  truth  of  which  she  had  never 
heard  questioned.  Her  mission  in  life  had  promptly 
been  recognized  by  her  as  the  development  of  her  soul 
along  individual  lines,  but  until  the  necessity  for  a 
(Choice  had  arisen  she  had  been  content  to  contemplate 
a  little  longer.  Now  the  world  was  before  her,  for  she 
was  twenty-three  and  singularly  free  from  ties.  Her 
mother  had  died  when  she  was  a  child.  Her  father,  the 
physician  of  the  surrounding  country,  a  man  of  engag- 
ing energy  with  an  empirical  education  and  a  specula- 
tive habit  of  mind,  had  been  the  companion  of  her  girl- 
hood. During  the  last  few  years  since  his  return  from 
the  war  an  invalid  from  a  wound,  her  care  for  him  had 
left  her  time  for  little  else. 

No  more  was  Babcock  in  haste  to  reach  home  ;  and 
after  the  preliminary  dash  from  the  door  into  the  glori- 
ous night  he  suffered  the  farm -horse  to  pursue  its 
favorite  gait,  a  deliberate  jog.  He  knew  the  creature 
to  be  docile,  and  that  he  could  bestow  his  attention  on 
his  companion  without  peril  to  her.  His  own  pulses 
were  bounding.  He  was  conscious  of  having  made  the 
whirligig  of  time  pass  merrily  for  the  company  by  his 
spirits  and  jolly  quips,  and  that  in  her  presence,  and  he 
was  groping  for  an  appropriate  introduction  to  the 
avowal  he  had  determined  to  make.  He  would  never 
have  a  better  opportunity  than  this,  and  it  had  been  his 
preconceived  intention  to  take  advantage  of  it  if  all 
went  well.  All  had  gone  well  and  he  was  going  to  try. 
She  had  been  kind  coming  over ;  and  had  seemed  to 
listen  with  interest  as  he  told  her  about  himself :  and 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

somehow  he  had  felt  less  distant  from  her.  He  was  not 
sure  what  she  would  say,  for  he  realized  that  she  was 
above  him.  That  was  one  reason  why  he  admired  her 
so.  She  symbolized  for  him  refinement,  poetry,  art,  the 
things  of  the  spirit — things  from  which  in  the  same 
whirligig  of  time  he  had  hitherto  been  cut  off  by  the 
vicissitudes  of  the  varnish  business ;  but  to  the  value 
of  which  he  was  not  blind.  How  proud  he  would  be 
of  such  a  wife  !  How  he  would  strive  and  labor  for  her  I 
His  heart  was  in  his  mouth  and  trembled  on  his  lip  as 
he  thought  of  the  possibility.  What  a  joy  to  be  sitting 
side  by  side  with  her  under  this  splendid  moon  !  He 
would  speak  and  know  his  fate. 

"Isn't  it  a  lovely  night  ?"  murmured  Selma  appre- 
ciatively. "  There  they  go,"  she  added,  indicating  the 
disappearance  over  the  brow  of  a  hill  of  the  last  of  the 
line  of  vehicles  of  the  rest  of  the  party,  whose  songs  had 
come  back  fainter  and  fainter. 

"  I  don't  care.  Do  you  ?  "  He  snuggled  toward  her 
a  very  little. 

"I  guess  they  won't  think  I'm  lost/'  she  said,  with  a 
low  laugh. 

"  What  d'you  suppose  your  folks  would  say  if  you 
were  lost  ?  I  mean  if  I  were  to  run  away  with  you  and 
didn't  bring  you  back  ?  "  There  was  a  nervous  ring  in 
the  guffaw  which  concluded  his  question. 

"  My  friends  wouldn't  miss  me  much  ;  at  least  they'd 
soon  get  over  the  shock  ;  but  I  might  miss  myself,  Mr. 
Babcock." 

Selma  was  wondering  why  it  was  that  she  rather 

liked  being  alone  with  this  man,  big  enough,  indeed,  to 

play  the  monster,  yet  half  school-boy,  but  a  man  who 

had  done  well  in  his  calling.     He  must  be  capable ;  he 

5 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

jonld  give  her  a  home  in  Benham  ;  and  it  was  plain  that 
he  loved  her. 

"  111  tell  you  something/'  he  said,  eagerly,  ignoring 
her  suggestion.  "  I'd  like  to  run  away  with  yon  and  be 
married  to-night,  Selma.  That's  what  I'd  like,  and  I 
guess  you  won't.  But  it's  the  burning  wish  of  my  heart 
that  you'd  marry  me  some  time.  I  want  you  to  be  my 
wife.  I'm  a  rough  fellow  along-side  of  you,  Selma,  but 
I'd  do  well  by  you ;  I  would.  I'm  able  to  look  after 
you,  and  you  shall  have  all  you  want.  There's  a  nice 
little  house  building  now  in  Benham.  Say  the  word 
and  I'll  buy  it  for  us  to-morrow.  I'm  crazy  after  you, 
Selma." 

The  rein  was  dangling,  and  Babcock  reached  his  left 
arm  around  the  waist  of  his  lady-love.  He  had  now  and 
again  made  the  same  demonstration  with  others  jauntily, 
but  this  was  a  different  matter.  She  was  not  to  be 
treated  like  other  women.  She  was  a  goddess  to  him, 
even  in  his  ardor,  and  he  reached  gingerly.  Selma  did 
not  wholly  withdraw  from  the  spread  of  his  trembling 
arm,  though  this  was  the  first  man  who  had  ever  vent- 
ured to  lay  a  finger  on  her. 

"  I'd  have  to  give  up  my  school,"  she  said. 

"  They  could  get  another  teacher." 

"Could  they?" 

"  Not  one  like  you.  You  see  I'm  clumsy,  but  I'm 
crazy  for  you,  Selm.i."  Emboldened  by  the  obvious 
feebleness  of  her  opposition,  he  broadened  his  clutch 
and  drew  her  toward  him.  "Say  yon  will,  sweet- 
heart." 

This  time  she  pulled  herself  free  and  sat  up  in  the 
chaise  "Would  you  let  me  do  things?"  she  asked 
after  a  moment. 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"Do  things/'  faltered  Babcock.  What  could  she 
mean?  She  had  told  him  on  the  way  over  that  her 
mother  had  chosen  her  name  from  a  theatrical  play- 
bill, and  it  passed  through  his  unsophisticated  brain 
that  she  might  be  thinking  of  the  stage. 

"Yes,  do  something  worth  while.  Be  somebody. 
I've  had  the  idea  I  could,  if  I  ever  got  the  chance. " 
Her  hands  were  folded  in  her  lap ;  there  was  a  wrapt 
expression  on  her  thin,  nervous  face,  and  a  glitter  in 
her  keen  eyes,  which  were  looking  straight  at  the  moon, 
as  though  they  would  outstare  it  in  brilliancy. 

"You  shall  be  anything  you  like,  if  you'll  only 
marry  me.  What  is  it  you're  wishing  to  be?  " 

"I  don't  know  exactly.  It  isn't  anything  especial 
yet.  It's  the  whole  thing.  I  thought  I  might  find  it 
in  my  school,  but  the  experience  so  far  hasn't  been  — 
satisfying." 

"  Troublesome  little  brats  I" 

"No,  I  dare  say  the  fault's  in  me.  If  I  went  to 
Benham  to  live  it  would  be  different.  Benham  must  be 
interesting — inspiring." 

"There's  plenty  of  go  there.  You'd  like  it,  and 
people  would  think  lots  of  you." 

"I'd  try  to  make  them."  She  turned  and  looked  at 
him  judicially,  but  with  a  softened  expression.  Her 
profile  in  her  exalted  mood  had  suggested  a  beautiful, 
but  worried  archangel ;  her  full  face  seemed  less  this 
and  wore  much  of  the  seductive  embarrassment  of  sex. 
To  Babcock  she  seemed  the  most  entrancing  being  he 
had  ever  seen.  "  Would  you  really  like  to  have  me 
come  ?  " 

He  gave  a  hoarse  ejaculation,  and  encircling  her 
eagerly  with  his  strong  grasp  pressed  his  lips  upon  her 
7 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

cheek.     "  Selma  !   darling  !  angel  1    I'm  the   happiest 
man  alive." 

"You  mustn't  do  that — yet,"  she  said  protest- 
ingly. 

"  Yes,  I  must ;  I'm  yours,  and  you're  mine, — mine. 
Aren't  you,  sweetheart  ?  There's  no  harm  in  a  kiss." 

She  had  to  admit  to  herself  that  it  was  not  very  un- 
pleasant after  all  to  be  held  in  the  embrace  of  a  sturdy 
lover,  though  she  had  never  intended  that  their  rela- 
tions should  reach  tvis  stage  of  familiarity  so  promptly. 
She  had  known,  of  course,  that  girls  were  to  look  for 
endearments  from  those  whom  they  promised  to  marry, 
but  her  person  had  hitherto  been  so  sacred  to  man  and 
tc  uerself  that  it  was  difficult  not  to  shrink  a  little  from 
what  was  taking  place.  This  then  was  love,  and  love 
was,  of  course,  the  sweetest  thing  in  the  world.  That 
was  one  of  the  truths  which  she  had  accepted  as  she 
had  accepted  the  beauty  of  Shakespeare,  as  something 
not  to  be  disputed,  yet  remote.  He  was  a  big,  affection- 
ate fellow,  and  she  must  make  up  her  mind  to  kiss  him. 
So  she  turned  her  face  toward  him  and  their  lips  met 
eagerly,  forestalling  the  little  peck  which  she  had  in- 
tended. She  let  her  head  fall  back  at  his  pressure  on  to 
his  shoulder,  and  gazed  up  at  the  moon. 

"  Are  you  happy,  Selma  ? "  he  asked,  giving  her  a 
fond,  firm  squeeze. 

"Yes,  Lewis." 

She  could  feel  his  frame  throb  with  joy  at  the  situa- 
tion as  she  uttered  his  name. 

"Well  be  married  right  away.     That's  if  you're  will- 
ing.    My  business  is  going  first-rate  and,  if  it  keeps 
growing  for  the  next  year  as  it  has  for  the  past  two, 
you'll  be  rich  presently.     When  shall  it  be,  Selma  ?" 
8 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"  You're  in  dreadful  haste.  Well,  I'll  promise  to  give 
the  selectmen  notice  to-morrow  that  they  must  find 
another  teacher/' 

"Because  the  one  they  have  now  is  going  to  become 
Mrs.  Lewis  J.  Babcock.  I'm  the  luckiest  fellow, 
hooray !  in  creation.  See  here,"  he  added,  taking  her 
hand,  "  I  guess  a  ring  wouldn't  look  badly  there — a 
real  diamond,  too.  Pretty  little  fingers." 

She  sighed  gently,  by  way  of  response.  It  was  com- 
fortable nestling  in  the  hollow  of  his  shoulder,  and  a 
new  delightful  experience  to  be  hectored  with  sweetness 
in  this  way.  How  round  and  bountiful  the  moon  looked. 
She  was  tired  of  her  present  life.  What  was  coming 
would  be  better.  Her  opportunity  was  at  hand  to  show 
the  world  what  she  was  made  of. 

"  A  real  diamond,  and  large  at  that,"  he  repeated, 
gazing  down  at  her,  and  then,  as  though  the  far  away 
expression  in  her  eyes  suggested  kinship  with  the  un- 
seen and  the  eternal,  he  said,  admiringly  but  humbly, 
"  It  must  be  grand  to  be  clever  like  you,  Selma.  I'm 
no  good  at  that.  But  if  loving  you  will  make  up  for  it, 
I'll  go  far,  little  woman." 

"  What  I  know  of  that  I  like,  and — and  if  some  day, 
I  can  make  you  proud  of  me,  so  much  the  better,"  said 
Selma. 

"  Proud  of  yon  ?  You  are  an  angel,  and  you  know 
it." 

She  closed  her  eyes  and  sighed  again.  Even  the 
bright  avenues  of  fame,  which  her  keen  eyes  bad  trav- 
ersed through  the  golden  moon,  paled  before  this 
tribute  from  the  lips  of  real  flesh  and  blood.  What 
woman  can  withstand  the  fascination  of  a  lover's  faith 
that  she  i»  an  angel  ?  If  a  man  is  fool  enough  +rt  believe 
9 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

It,  why  undeceive  him  ?  And  if  he  is  so  sure  of  it,  may 
it  even  not  be  so  ?  Selma  was  content  to  have  it  so,  es- 
pecially as  the  assertion  did  not  jar  with  her  own  pre- 
possessions ;  and  thus  they  rode  home  in  the  summer 
night  in  the  mutual  contentment  of  a  betrothal. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  match  was  thoroughly  agreeable  to  Mrs.  Farleys 
Selma's  aunt  and  nearest  relation,  who  with  her  hus- 
band presided  over  a  flourishing  poultry  farm  in  Wilton. 
She  was  an  easy-going,  friendly  spirit,  with  a  sharp  but 
not  wide  vision,  who  did  not  believe  that  a  likelier  fel- 
low than  Lewis  Babcock  would  come  wooing  were  her 
niece  to  wait  a  lifetime.  He  was  hearty,  comical,  and 
generous,  and  was  said  to  be  making  money  fast  in  the 
varnish  business.  In  short,  he  seemed  to  her  an  ad- 
mirable young  man,  with  a  stock  of  common-sense  and 
high  spirits  eminently  serviceable  for  a  domestic  vent- 
ure. How  full  of  fun  he  was,  to  be  sure  !  It  did  her 
good  to  behold  the  tribute  his  appetite  paid  to  the  buck- 
wheat cakes  with  cream  and  other  tempting  viands  she 
set  before  him — a  pleasing  contrast  to  Selma's  starveling 
diet — and  the  hearty  smack  with  which  he  enforced  his 
demands  upon  her  own  cheeks  as  his  mother-in-law  ap- 
parent, argued  an  affectionate  disposition.  Burly,  rosy- 
cheeked,  good-natured,  was  he  not  the  very  man  to 
dispel  her  niece's  vagaries  and  turn  the  girl's  morbid 
cleverness  into  healthy  channels  ? 

Selrna,  therefore,  found  nothing  but  encouragement 
in  her  choice  at  home  ;  so  by  the  end  of  another  three 
months  they  were  made  man  and  wife,  and  had  moved 
into  that  little  house  in  Benham  which  had  attracted 
Babcoek's  eye.  Beuham,  as  has  been  indicated,  was  in 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

the  throes  of  bustle  and  self-improvement.  Before  the 
war  it  had  been  essentially  unimportant.  But  the  build- 
ing of  a  railroad  through  the  town  and  the  discovery  of 
oil  wells  in  its  neighborhood  had  transformed  it  in  a 
twinkling  into  an  active  and  spirited  centre.  Selma's 
new  house  was  on  the  edge  of  the  city,  in  the  van  of 
real  estate  progress,  one  of  a  row  of  small  but  ambitious- 
looking  dwellings,  over  the  dark  yellow  clapboards  of 
which  the  architect  had  let  his  imagination  run  rampant 
in  scrolls  and  flourishes.  There  was  fancy  colored  glass 
in  a  sort  of  rose-window  over  the  front  door,  and  lozen- 
ges of  fancy  glass  here  and  there  in  the  fa9ade.  Each 
house  had  a  little  grass-plot,  which  Babcock  in  his  case 
had  made  appurtenant  to  a  metal  stag,  which  seemed  to 
him  the  finishing  touch  to  a  cosey  and  ornamental  home. 
He  had  done  his  best  and  with  all  his  heart,  and  the 
future  was  before  them. 

Babcock  found  himself  radiant  over  the  first  experi- 
ences of  married  life.  It  was  just  what  he  had  hoped, 
only  better.  His  imagination  in  entertaining  an  angel 
had  not  been  unduly  literal,  and  it  was  a  constant  de- 
light and  source  of  congratulation  to  him  to  reflect  over 
his  pipe  on  the  lounge  after  supper  that  the  charming 
piece  of  flesh  and  blood  sewing  or  reading  demurely 
close  by  was  the  divinity  of  his  domestic  hearth.  There 
she  was  to  smile  at  him  when  he  came  home  at  night 
and  enable  him  to  forget  the  cares  and  dross  of  the 
varnish  business.  Her  presence  across  the  table  added 
a  new  zest  to  every  meal  and  improved  his  appetite.  In 
marrying  he  had  expected  to  cut  loose  from  his  bachelor 
habits,  and  he  asked  for  nothing  better  than  to  spend 
every  evening  alone  with  Selma,  varied  by  an  occasional 
evening  at  the  theatre,  and  a  drive  out  to  the  Parleys' 
12 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

now  and  then  for  supper.  This,  with  the  regular  Sun- 
day  service  at  Kev,  Henry  Glynn's  church,  rounded  out 
the  weeks  to  his  perfect  satisfaction.  He  was  conscious 
of  feeling  that  the  situation  did  not  admit  of  improve- 
ment, for  though,  when  he  measured  himself  with 
Selma,  Babcock  was  humble-minded,  a  cheerful  and 
uncritical  optimism  was  the  ruling  characteristic  of  his 
temperament.  With  health,  business  fortune,  and  love  all 
on  his  side,  it  was  natural  to  him  to  regard  his  lot  with 
complacency.  Especially  as  to  all  appearances,  this  was 
the  sort  of  thing  Selma  liked,  also.  Presently,  perhaps, 
there  would  be  a  baby,  and  then  their  cup  of  domestic 
happiness  would  be  overflowing.  Babcock's  long  un- 
gratified  yearning  for  the  things  of  the  spirit  were  fully 
met  by  these  cosey  evenings,  which  he  would  have  been 
glad  to  continue  to  the  crack  of  doom.  To  smoke  and 
sprawl  and  read  a  little,  and  exchange  chit-chat,  was 
poetry  enough  for  him.  So  contented  was  he  that  his 
joy  was  apt  to  find  an  outlet  in  ditties  and  whistling — 
he  possessed  a  slightly  tuneful,  rollicking  knack  at 
both — a  proceeding  which  commonly  culminated  in  his 
causing  Selma  to  sit  beside  him  on  the  sofa  and  be  made 
much  of,  to  the  detriment  of  her  toilette. 

As  for  the  bride,  so  dazing  were  the  circumstances 
incident  to  the  double  change  of  matrimony  and  adap- 
tation to  city  life,  that  her  judgment  was  in  suspension. 
Yet  though  she  smiled  and  sewed  demurely,  she  was 
thinking.  The  yellow  clapboarded  house  and  metal 
stag,  and  a  maid-of-all-work  at  her  beck  and  call,  were 
gratifying  at  the  outset  and  made  demands  upon  her 
energies.  Her  position  in  her  father's  house  had  been 
chiefly  ornamental  and  social.  She  had  been  his  com- 
panion and  nurse,  had  read  to  him  and  argued  with 
13 


UNLEAVENED   BREAD 

him,  but  the  mere  household  work  had  been  performed  by 
an  elderly  female  relative  who  recognized  that  her  mind 
was  bent  on  higher  things.  Nevertheless,  she  had  never 
doubted  that  when  the  time  arrived  to  show  Selma's 
capacity  as  a  housewife,  she  would  be  more  than  equal 
to  the  emergency.  Assuredly  she  would,  for  one  of  the 
distinguishing  traits  of  American  womanhood  was  the 
ability  to  perform  admirably  with  one's  own  hand  many 
menial  duties  and  yet  be  prepared  to  shine  socially  with 
the  best.  Still  the  experience  was  not  quite  so  easy  as 
she  expected  ;  even  harassing  and  mortifying.  Fortu- 
nately, Lewis  was  more  particular  about  quantity  than 
quality  where  the  table  was  concerned  ;  and,  after  all, 
food  and  domestic  details  were  secondary  considerations 
in  a  noble  outlook.  It  would  have  suited  her  never  to 
be  obliged  to  eat,  and  to  be  able  to  leave  the  care  of  the 
house  to  the  hired  girl ;  but  that  being  out  of  the  ques- 
tion, it  became  incumbent  on  her  to  make  those  obliga- 
tions as  simple  as  possible.  However,  the  possession  of 
a  new  house  and  gay  fittings  was  an  agreeable  realiza- 
tion. At  home  everything  had  been  upholstered  in 
black  horse-hair,  and  regard  for  material  appearances 
had  been  obscured  for  her  by  the  tension  of  her  intro- 
spective tendencies.  Lewis  was  very  kind,  and  she  had 
no  reason  to  reproach  herself  as  yet  for  her  choice.  He 
had  insisted  that  she  should  provide  herself  with  an 
ample  and  more  stylish  wardrobe,  and  though  the  invi- 
tation had  interested  her  but  mildly,  the  effect  of 
shrewdly-made  and  neatly  fitting  garments  on  her  fig- 
ure had  been  a  revelation.  Like  the  touch  of  a  man's 
hand,  fine  raiment  had  seemed  to  her  hitherto  almost 
repellant,  but  it  was  obvious  now  that  anything  which 
enhanced  her  effectiveness  could  not  be  dismissed  as 
14 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

valueless.  To  arrive  at  definite  conclusions  in  regard  to 
her  social  surroundings  was  less  easy  for  Selma.  Ben- 
ham,  in  its  rapid  growth,  had  got  beyond  the  level  sim- 
plicity of  Westfield  and  Wilton,  and  was  already  con- 
fronted by  the  stern  realities  which  baffle  the  original 
ideal  in  every  American  city.  We  like  as  a  nation  to 
cherish  the  illusion  that  extremes  of  social  condition  do 
not  exist  even  in  our  large  communities,  and  that  the 
plutocrat  and  the  saleslady,  the  learned  professions  and 
the  proletariat  associate  on  a  common  basis  of  equal 
virtue,  intelligence,  and  culture.  And  yet,  although 
Benham  was  a  comparatively  young  and  an  essentially 
American  city,  there  were  very  marked  differences  in 
all  these  respects  in  its  community. 

Topographically  speaking  the  starting  point  of  Ben- 
ham  was  its  water-course.  Twenty  years  before  the 
war  Benham  was  merely  a  cluster  of  frame  houses  in  the 
valley  of  the  limpid,  peaceful  river  Nye.  At  that  time 
the  inhabitants  drank  of  the  Nye  taken  at  a  point  below 
the  town,  for  there  was  a  high  fall  which  would  have 
made  the  drawing  of  water  above  less  convenient.  This 
they  were  doing  when  Selma  came  to  Benham,  although 
every  man's  hand  had  been  raised  against  the  Nye, 
which  was  the  nearest,  and  hence  for  a  community  in 
hot  haste,  the  most  natural  receptacle  for  dyestuffs, 
ashes  and  all  the  outflow  from  woollen  mills,  pork  fac- 
tories and  oil  yards,  and  it  ran  the  color  of  glistening 
bean  soup.  From  time  to  time,  as  the  city  grew,  the 
drawing  point  had  been  made  a  little  lower  where  the 
stream  had  regained  a  portion  of  its  limpidity,  and  no 
one  but  wiseacres  and  busybodies  questioned  its  whole- 
someness.  Benham  at  that  time  was  too  preoccupied 
and  too  proud  of  its  increasing  greatness  to  mistrust  its 
15 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

own  judgment  in  matters  hygienic,  artistic,  and  educa- 
tional. There  came  a  day  later  when  the  river  rose 
against  the  city,  and  an  epidemic  of  typhoid  fever  con- 
vinced a  reluctant  community  that  there  were  some 
things  which  free-born  Americans  did  not  know  intui- 
tively. Then  there  were  public  meetings  and  a  generaj 
indignation  movement,  and  presently,  under  the  guid- 
ance of  competent  experts,  Lake  Mohuiik,  seven  miles 
to  the  north,  was  secured  as  a  reservoir.  Just  to  show 
how  the  temper  of  the  times  has  changed,  and  how 
sophisticated  in  regard  to  hygienic  matters  some  of  the 
good  citizens  of  Benham  in  these  latter  days  have  be- 
come, it  is  worthy  of  mention  that,  though  competent 
chemists  declare  Lake  Mohunk  to  be  free  from  contam- 
ination, there  are  those  now  who  use  so-called  mineral 
spring-waters  in  preference  ;  notably  Miss  Flagg,  the 
daughter  of  old  Joel  Flagg,  once  the  miller  and,  at  the 
date  when  the  Babcocks  set  up  their  household  gods,  one 
of  the  oil  magnates  of  Benham.  He  drank  the  bean 
colored  Nye  to  the  day  of  his  death  and  died  at  eighty  ; 
but  she  carries  a  carboy  of  spring-water  with  her  per- 
sonal baggage  wherever  she  travels,  and  is  perpetually 
solicitous  in  regard  to  the  presence  of  arsenic  in  wall- 
papers into  the  bargain. 

Verily,  the  world  has  wagged  apace  in  Benham  since 
Selma  first  looked  out  at  her  metal  stag  and  the  sur- 
rounding landscape.  Ten  years  later  the  Benham  Home 
Beautifying  Society  took  in  hand  the  Nye  and  those 
who  drained  into  it,  and  by  means  of  garbage  consum- 
ers, disinfectants,  and  filters  and  judiciously  arranged 
shrubbery  converted  its  channel  and  banks  into  quite  a 
respectable  citizens'  paradise.  But  even  at  that  time 
the  industries  or  either  bank  of  the  Nye,  which  flowed 
16 


UNLEAVENED  BKEAD 

from  east  to  west,  were  forcing  the  retail  shops  and  the 
residences  further  and  further  away.  To  illustrate 
again  from  the  Flagg  family,  just  before  the  war  Joel 
Flagg  built  a  modest  house  less  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
from  the  southerly  bank  of  the  river,  expecting  to  end 
his  days  there,  and  was  accused  by  contemporary  censors 
of  an  intention  to  seclude  himself  in  magnificent  isola- 
tion. About  this  time  he  had  yielded  to  the  plea  of  his 
family,  that  every  other  building  in  the  street  had  been 
given  over  to  trade,  and  that  they  were  stranded  in 
a  social  Sahara  of  factories.  So  like  the  easy  going 
yet  soaring  soul  that  he  was,  he  had  moved  out  two 
miles  to  what  was  known  as  the  Elver  Drive,  where  the 
Nye  accomplishes  a  broad  sweep  to  the  south.  There 
an  ambitious  imported  architect,  glad  of  such  an  oppor- 
tunity to  speculate  in  artistic  effects,  had  built  for  him 
a  conglomeration  of  a  feudal  castle  and  an  old  colonial 
mansion  in  all  the  grisly  bulk  of  signal  failure. 

Considering  our  ideals,  it  is  a  wonder  that  no  one  has 
provided  a  law  forbidding  the  erection  of  all  the  archi- 
tecturally attractive,  or  sumptuous  houses  in  one  neigh- 
borhood. It  ought  not  to  be  possible  in  a  republic  for 
such  a  state  of  affairs  to  exist  as  existed  in  Benham. 
That  is  to  say  all  the  wealth  and  fashion  of  the  city  lay 
to  the  west  of  Central  Avenue,  which  was  so  literally 
the  dividing  line  that  if  a  Benhamite  were  referred  to 
as  living  on  that  street  the  conventional  inquiry  would 
be  "On  which  side  ?"  And  if  the  answer  were  "  On 
the  east,"  the  inquirer  would  be  apt  to  say  "  Oh  ! "  with 
a  cold  inflection  which  suggested  a  ban.  No  Benhamite 
has  ever  been  able  to  explain  precisely  why  it  should  be 
more  creditable  to  live  on  one  side  of  the  same  street 
than  on  the  other,  but  I  have  been  told  by  clever  women, 
17 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

who  were  good  Americans  besides,  that  this  is  one  of  the 
subtle  truths  which  baffle  the  Gods  and  democracies 
alike.  Central  Avenue  has  long  ago  been  appropriated 
by  the  leading  retail  dry-goods  shops,  huge  establish- 
ments where  everything  from  a  set  of  drawing-room 
furniture  to  a  hair-pin  can  be  bought  under  a  single  roof  ; 
but  at  that  time  it  was  the  social  artery.  Everything  to 
the  west  was  new  and  assertive ;  then  came  the  shops 
and  the  business  centre ;  and  to  the  east  were  Tom, 
Dick,  and  Harry,  Michael,  Isaac  and  Pietro,  the  army  of 
citizens  who  worked  in  the  mills,  oil  yards,  and  pork 
factories.  And  to  the  north,  across  the  river,  on  the 
further  side  of  more  manufacturing  establishments,  was 
Poland,  so-called — a  settlement  of  the  Poles — to  reach 
whom  now  there  are  seven  bridges  of  iron.  There  were 
but  two  bridges  then,  one  of  wood,  and  journeys  across 
them  had  not  yet  been  revealed  to  philanthropic  young 
women  eager  to  do  good. 

Selma's  house  lay  well  to  the  south-west  of  Central 
Avenue,  far  enough  removed  from  the  River  Drive  and 
the  Flagg  mansion  to  be  humble  and  yet  near  enough 
to  be  called  looking  up.  Their  row  was  complete  and 
mainly  occupied,  but  the  locality  was  a-building,  and  in 
the  process  of  making  acquaintance.  So  many  strangers 
had  come  to  Benham  that  even  Babcock  knew  but  few 
of  their  neighbors.  Without  formulating  definitely  how 
it  was  to  happen,  Selma  had  expected  to  be  received 
with  open  arms  into  a  society  eager  to  recognize  her 
salient  qualities.  But  apparently,  at  first  glance,  every- 
body's interest  was  absorbed  by  the  butcher  and  grocer, 
the  dressmaker  and  the  domestic  hearth.  That  is,  the 
other  people  in  their  row  seemed  to  be  content  to  do  as 
they  were  doing.  The  husbands  went  to  town  every  day 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

— town  which  lay  hi  the  murky  distance — and  their 
wives  were  friendly  enough,  but  did  not  seem  to  be 
conscious  either  of  voids  in  their  own  existence  or  of  the 
privilege  of  her  society.  To  be  sure,  they  dressed  well 
and  were  suggestive  in  that,  but  they  looked  blank  at 
some  of  her  inquiries,  and  appeared  to  feel  their  days 
complete  if,  after  the  housework  had  been  done  and  the 
battle  fought  with  the  hired  girl,  they  were  able  to  visit 
the  shopping  district  and  pore  over  fabrics,  in  case  they 
could  not  buy  them.  Some  were  evidently  looking  for- 
ward to  the  day  when  they  might  be  so  fortunate  as  to 
possess  one  of  the  larger  houses  of  the  district  a  mile 
away,  and  figure  among  what  they  termed  "  society 
people."  There  were  others  who,  in  their  satisfaction 
with  this  course  of  life,  referred  with  a  touch  of  self- 
righteousness  to  the  dwellers  on  the  River  Drive  as  de- 
serving reprobation  on  account  of  a  lack  of  serious  pur- 
pose. This  criticism  appealed  to  Selma,  and  consoled 
her  in  a  measure  for  the  half  mortification  with  which 
she  had  begun  to  realize  that  she  was  not  of  so  much 
account  as  she  had  expected  ;  at  least,  that  there  were 
people  not  very  far  distant  from  her  block  who  were  dif- 
ferent somehow  from  her  neighbors,  and  who  took  part 
in  social  proceedings  in  which  she  and  her  husband 
were  not  invited  to  participate.  Manifestly  they  were 
unworthy  and  un-American.  It  was  a  comfort  to  come 
to  this  conclusion,  even  though  her  immediate  surround- 
ings, including  the  society  of  those  who  had  put  the 
taunt  into  her  thoughts,  left  her  unsatisfied. 

Some   relief  was  provided  at  last  by  her  church. 

Babcock  was  by  birth  an  Episcopalian,  though  he  had 

been  lax  in  his  interest  during  early  manhood.     This 

was  one  of  the  matters  which  he  had  expected  marriage 

19 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

to  correct,  and  he  had  taken  up  again,  not  merely  with 
resignation  bnt  complacency,  the  custom  of  attending 
service  regularly.  Dr.  White  had  been  a  controversial 
Methodist,  but  since  his  wife's  death,  and  especially 
since  the  war,  he  had  abstained  from  religious  obser- 
vances, and  had  argued  himself  somewhat  far  afield 
from  the  fold  of  orthodox  belief.  Consequently  Selma, 
though  she  attended  church  at  Westfield  when  her 
father's  ailments  did  not  require  her  presence  at  home, 
had  been  brought  up  to  exercise  her  faculties  freely  on 
problems  of  faith  and  to  feel  herself  a  little  more  en- 
lightened than  the  conventional  worshipper.  Still  she 
was  not  averse  to  following  her  husband  to  the  Rev. 
Henry  Glynn's  church.  The  experience  was  another 
revelation  to  her,  for  service  at  Westfield  had  been  emi- 
nently severe  and  unadorned.  Mr.  Glynn  was  an  Eng- 
lishman ;  a  short,  stout,  strenuous  member  of  the  Church 
of  England  with  a  broad  accent  and  a  predilection  for 
ritual,  but  enthusiastic  and  earnest.  He  had  been 
tempted  to  cross  the  ocean  by  the  opportunities  for 
preaching  the  gospel  to  the  heathen,  and  he  had  fixed 
on  Benham  as  a  vineyard  where  he  could  labor  to  ad- 
vantage. His  advent  had  been  a  success.  He  had  awak- 
ened interest  by  his  fervor  and  by  his  methods.  The 
pew  taken  by  Babcock  was  one  of  the  last  remaining, 
and  there  was  already  talk  of  building  a  larger  church 
to  replace  the  chapel  where  he  ministered.  Choir  boys, 
elaborate  vestments,  and  genuflections,  were  novelties 
in  the  Protestant  worship  of  Benham,  and  attracted  the 
attention  of  many  almost  weary  of  plainer  forms  of  wor- 
ship, especially  as  these  manifestations  of  color  were 
effectively  supplemented  by  evident  sincerity  of  spirit 
on  the  part  of  their  pastor.  Nor  were  his  energy  and 
20 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

zeal  confined  to  purely  spiritual  functions.  The  scope 
of  his  church  work  was  practical  and  social.  He  had 
organized  from  the  congregation  societies  of  various 
sorts  to  relieve  the  poor ;  Bible  classes  and  evening  re- 
unions which  the  members  of  the  parish  were  urged  to 
attend  in  order  to  become  acquainted.  Mr.  Glynn's 
manner  was  both  hearty  and  pompous.  To  him  there 
was  no  Church  in  the  world  but  the  Church  of  England, 
and  it  was  obvious  that  as  one  of  the  clergy  of  that 
Church  he  considered  himself  to  be  no  mean  man ;  but 
apart  from  this  serious  intellectual  foible  with  respect 
to  his  own  relative  importance,  he  was  a  stimulating 
Christian  and  citizen  within  his  lights.  His  active, 
crusading,  and  emotional  temperament  just  suited  the 
seething  propensities  of  Benham. 

His  flock  comprised  a  few  of  the  residents  of  the 
River  Drive  district,  among  them  the  Flaggs,  but  was  a 
fairly  representative  mixture  of  all  grades  of  society,  in- 
cluding the  poorest.  These  last  were  specimens  under 
spiritual  duress  rather  than  free  worshippers,  and  it  was 
a  constant  puzzle  to  the  reverend  gentleman  why,  in 
the  matter  of  attendance,  they,  metaphorically  speaking, 
sickened  and  died.  It  had  never  been  so  in  England. 
"  Bonnets  ! "  responded  one  day  Mrs.  Hallett  Taylor, 
who  had  become  Mr.  Glynn's  leading  ally  in  parish 
matters,  and  was  noted  for  her  executive  ability.  She 
was  an  engaging  but  clear-headed  soul  who  went  straight 
to  the  point. 

"  I  do  not  fathom  your  meaning,"  said  the  pastor,  a 
little  loftily,  for  the  suggestion  sounded  flippant. 

"  It  hurts  their  feelings  to  go  to  a  church  where  their 
clothes  are  shabby  compared  with  those  of  the  rest  of 
the  congregation." 

21 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"Yes,  bnt  in  God's  house,  dear  lady,  all  such  dis- 
tinctions should  be  forgotten." 

"They  can't  forget,  and  I  don't  blame  them  much, 
poor  things,  do  you  ?  It's  the  free-born  American 
spirit.  There  now,  Mr.  Glynn,  you  were  asking  me 
yesterday  to  suggest  some  one  for  junior  warden.  Why 
not  Mr.  Babcock  ?  They're  new  comers  and  seem  avail- 
able people." 

Mr.  Glynn's  distress  at  her  first  question  was  merged 
in  the  interest  inspired  by  her  second,  for  his  glance  had 
followed  hers  until  it  rested  on  the  Babcocks,  who  had 
just  entered  the  vestry  to  attend  the  social  reunion. 
Selma's  face  wore  its  worried  archangel  aspect.  She 
was  on  her  good  behavior  and  proudly  on  her  guard 
against  social  impertinence.  But  she  looked  very  pretty, 
and  her  compact,  slight  figure  indicated  a  busy  way. 

"  I  will  interrogate  him,"  he  answered.  "  I  have  ob- 
served them  before,  and — and  I  can't  quite  make  out 
the  wife.  It  is  almost  a  spiritual  face,  and  yet " 

"  Just  a  little  hard  and  keen,"  broke  in  Mrs.  Taylor, 
upon  his  hesitation.  "  She  is  pretty,  and  she  looks 
clever.  I  think  we  can  get  some  work  out  of  her." 

Thereupon  she  sailed  gracefully  in  the  direction  of 
Selma.  Mrs.  Taylor  was  from  Maryland.  Her  hus- 
band, a  physician,  had  come  to  Benham  at  the  close  of 
the  war  to  build  up  a  practice,  and  his  wife  had  aided 
him  by  her  energy  and  graciousness  to  make  friends. 
Unlike  some  Southerners,  she  was  not  indolent,  and  yet 
she  possessed  all  the  ingratiating,  spontaneous  charm  of 
well-bred  women  from  that  section  of  the  country.  Her 
tastes  were  sesthetic  and  ethical  rather  than  intellectual, 
and  her  special  interest  at  the  moment  was  the  welfare 
of  the  church.  She  thought  it  desirable  that  all  the 
22 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

elements  of  which  the  congregation  was  composed  should 
be  represented  on  the  committees,  and  Selma  seemed  to 
her  the  most  obviously  available  person  from  the  class 
to  which  the  Babcocks  belonged. 

"  I  want  you  to  help  us/'  she  said.  "  I  think  you 
have  ideas.  We  need  a  woman  with  sense  and  ideas  on 
our  committee  to  build  the  new  church." 

Selma  was  not  used  to  easy  grace  and  sprightly  spon- 
taneity. It  affected  her  at  first  much  as  the  touch  of 
man ;  but  just  as  in  that  instance  the  experience  was 
agreeable.  Life  was  too  serious  a  thing  in  her  regard 
to  lend  itself  casually  to  lightness,  and  yet  she  felt 
instinctively  attracted  by  this  lack  of  self-consciousness 
and  self-restraint.  Besides  here  was  an  opportunity 
such  as  she  had  been  yearning  for.  She  had  met  Mrs. 
Taylor  before,  and  knew  her  to  be  the  presiding  genius 
of  the  congregation ;  and  it  was  evident  that  Mrs. 
Taylor  had  discovered  her  value. 

"  Thank  you/'  she  said,  gravely,  but  cordially.  "  That 
is  what  I  should  like.  I  wish  to  be  of  use.  I  shall  be 
pleased  to  serve  on  the  committee." 

"  It  will  be  interesting,  I  think.  I  have  never  helped 
build  anything  before.  Perhaps  you  have  ?  " 

"No/'  said  Selma  slowly.  Her  tone  conveyed  the 
impression  that,  though  her  abilities  had  never  been 
put  to  that  precise  test,  the  employment  seemed  easily 
within  her  capacity. 

"Ah!  I  am  sure  you  will  be  suggestive"  said  Mrs. 
Taylor.  "  I  am  right  anxious  that  it  shall  be  a  credit 
in  an  architectural  way,  you  know." 

Mr.  Glynn,  who  had  followed  with  more  measured 
tread,  now  mingled  his  hearty  bass  voice  in  the  conver- 
sation. His  mental  attitude  was  friendly,  but  inquisi- 
23 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

torial,  as  seemed  to  him  to  befit  one  charged  with  the 
cure  of  souls.  He  proceeded  to  ask  questions,  begin- 
ning with  inquiries  conventional  and  domestic,  but 
verging  presently  on  points  of  faith.  Babcock,  to  whom 
they  were  directly  addressed,  stood  the  ordeal  well, 
revealing  himself  as  flattered,  contrite,  and  zealous  to 
avail  himself  of  the  blessings  of  the  church.  He 
admitted  that  lately  he  had  been  lax  in  his  spiritual 
duties 

"  We  come  every  Sunday  now,"  he  said  buoyantly, 
with  a  glance  at  Selma  as  though  to  indicate  that  she 
deserved  the  credit  of  his  reformation. 

"  The  holy  sacrament  of  marriage  has  led  many  souls 
from  darkness  into  light,  from  the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt 
to  the  table  of  the  Lord"  Mr.  Glynn  answered.  "And 
yon,  my  daughter,"  he  added,  meaningly,  "  guard  well 
your  advantage." 

It  was  agreeable  to  Selma  that  the  clergymen  seemed 
to  appreciate  her  superiority  to  her  embarrassed  husband, 
especially  as  she  thought  she  knew  that  in  England 
women  were  not  expected  to  have  opinions  of  their  own. 
She  wished  to  say  something  to  impress  him  more  dis- 
tinctly with  her  cleverness,  for  though  she  was  secretly 
contemptuous  of  his  ceremonials,  there  was  something 
impressive  in  his  mandatory  zeal.  She  came  near  asking 
whether  he  held  to  the  belief  that  it  was  wrong  for  a 
man  to  marry  his  deceased  wife's  sister,  which  was  the 
only  proposition  in  relation  to  the  married  state  which 
occurred  to  her  at  the  moment  as  likely  to  show  her 
independence,  but  she  contented  herself  instead  with 
saying,  with  so  much  of  Mrs.  Taylor's  spontaneity  as  she 
could  reproduce  without  practice,  "  We  expect  to  be 
yery  happy  in  your  church." 
24 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Selma,  however,  supplemented  her  words  with  her  tense 
spiritual  look.  She  felt  happier  than  she  had  for  weeks, 
inasmuch  as  life  seemed  to  be  opening  before  her.  For 
a  few  moments  she  listened  to  Mr.  Glynn  unfold  his 
hopes  in  regard  to  the  new  church,  trying  to  make  him 
feel  that  she  was  no  common  woman.  She  considered 
it  a  tribute  to  her  when  he  took  Lewis  aside  later  and 
ssked  him  to  become  a  junior  warden. 


CHAPTER  IIL 

AT  this  time  the  necessity  for  special  knowledge  as  to 
artistic  or  educational  matters  was  recognized  grudg- 
ingly in  Benham.  Any  reputable  citizen  was  considered 
capable  to  pass  judgment  on  statues  and  pictures,  de- 
sign a  house  or  public  building,  and  prescribe  courses  of 
study  for  school-children.  Since  then  the  free-born 
Benhamite,  little  by  little,  through  wise  legislation  or 
public  opinion,  born  of  bitter  experience,  has  been 
robbed  of  these  prerogatives  until,  not  long  ago,  the  un- 
American  and  undemocratic  proposition  to  take  away 
the  laying  out  of  the  new  city  park  from  the  easy  going 
but  ignorant  mercies  of  the  so-called  city  forester,  who 
had  been  first  a  plumber  and  later  an  alderman,  pre- 
vailed. An  enlightened  civic  spirit  triumphed  and 
special  knowledge  was  invoked. 

That  was  twenty-five  years  later.  Mrs.  Hallett  Taylor 
had  found  herself  almost  single-handed  at  the  outset  in 
her  purpose  to  build  the  new  church  on  artistic  lines.  Or 
rather  the  case  should  be  stated  thus  :  Everyone  agreed 
that  it  was  to  be  the  most  beautiful  church  in  the 
country,  consistent  with  the  money,  and  no  one  doubted 
that  it  would  be,  especially  as  everyone  except  Mrs. 
Taylor  felt  that  in  confiding  the  matter  to  the  leading 
architect  in  Benham  the  committee  would  be  exercising 
a  wise  and  intelligent  discretion.  Mr.  Pierce,  the  indi- 
vidual suggested,  had  never,  until  recently,  employed 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

the  word  architect  in  speaking  of  himself,  and  he  pro- 
nounced it,  as  did  some  of  the  committee,  "arshitect," 
shying  a  little  at  the  word,  as  though  it  were  caviare 
and  anything  but  American.  He  was  a  builder,  prac- 
tised by  a  brief  but  rushing  career  in  erecting  houses, 
banks,  schools,  and  warehouses  speedily  and  boldly.  He 
had  been  on  the  spot  when  the  new  growth  of  Benham 
began,  and  his  handiwork  was  writ  large  all  over  the 
city.  The  city  was  proud  of  him,  and  had,  as  it  were, 
sniffed  when  Joel  Flagg  went  elsewhere  for  a  man  to 
build  his  new  house.  Surely,  if  it  were  necessary  to 
pay  extra  for  that  sort  of  thing,  was  not  home  talent 
good  enough  ?  Yet  it  must  be  confessed  that  the  ugly 
splendor  of  the  Flagg  mediaeval  castle  had  so  far  dazed 
the  eye  of  Benham  that  its  "arshitect"  had  felt  con- 
strained, in  order  to  keep  up  with  the  times,  to  try 
fancy  flights  of  his  own.  He  had  silenced  any  doubt- 
ing Thomases  by  his  latest  effort,  a  new  school-house, 
rich  in  rampant  angles  and  scrolls,  on  the  brown-stone 
front  of  which  the  name  Flagg  School  appeared  in  am- 
bitious, distorted  hieroglyphics. 

Think  what  a  wealth  of  imagery  in  the  tossing  of  the 
second  0  on  top  of  the  L.  If  artistic  novelty  and 
genius  were  sought  for  the  new  church,  here  it  was 
ready  to  be  invoked.  Besides,  Mr.  Pierce  was  a  brother- 
in-law  of  one  of  the  members  of  the  committee,  and, 
though  the  committee  had  the  fear  of  God  in  their 
hearts  in  the  erection  of  his  sanctuary,  it  was  not  easy 
to  protest  against  the  near  relative  of  a  fellow  member, 
especially  one  so  competent. 

The  committee  numbered  seven.  Selma  had  been 
chosen  to  fill  a  vacancy  caused  by  death,  but  at  the 
time  of  her  selection  the  matter  was  still  in  embryo, 
27 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

and  the  question  of  an  architect  had  not  been  mooted. 
At  the  next  meeting  discussion  arose  as  to  whether  Mr. 
Pierce  should  be  given  the  job,  under  the  eagle  eyes  of 
a  sub-committee,  or  Mrs.  Taylor's  project  of  inviting 
competitive  designs  should  be  adopted.  It  was  known 
that  Mr.  Glynn,  without  meaning  disrespect  to  Mr. 
Pierce,  favored  the  latter  plan  as  more  progressive,  a 
word  always  attractive  to  Benham  ears  when  they  had 
time  to  listen.  Its  potency,  coupled  with  veneration 
for  the  pastor's  opinion,  had  secured  the  vote  of  Mr. 
Clyme,  a  banker.  Another  member  of  the  committee, 
a  lawyer,  favored  Mrs.  Taylor's  idea  because  of  a  grudge 
against  Mr.  Pierce.  The  chairman  and  brother-in-law, 
and  a  hard-headed  stove  dealer,  were  opposed  to  the 
competitive  plan  as  highfalutin  and  unnecessary.  Thus 
the  deciding  vote  lay  with  Selma. 

Now  that  they  were  on  the  same  committee,  Mrs. 
Taylor  could  not  altogether  make  her  out.  She  remem- 
bered that  Mr.  Glynn  had  said  the  same  thing.  Mrs. 
Taylor  was  accustomed  to  conquests.  Without  actual 
premeditation,  she  was  agreeably  conscious  of  being 
able  to  convert  and  sweep  most  opponents  off  their  feet 
by  the  force  of  her  pleasant  personality.  In  this  case 
the  effect  was  not  so  obvious.  She  was  conscious  that 
Selma's  eyes  were  constantly  fixed  upon  her,  but  as  to 
what  she  was  thinking  Mrs.  Taylor  felt  less  certain. 
Clearly  she  was  mesmerized,  but  was  the  tribute  admira- 
tion or  hostility  ?  Mrs.  Taylor  was  piqued,  and  put 
upon  her  mettle.  Besides  she  needed  Selma's  vote.  Not 
being  skilled  in  psychological  analyses,  she  had  to  resort 
to  practical  methods,  and  invited  her  to  afternoon  tea. 

Selma  had  never  been  present  at  afternoon  tea  as  a 
domestic  function  in  her  life.  Nor  had  she  seen  a  home 
28 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

like  Mrs.  Taylor's.  The  house  was  no  larger  than  her 
own,  and  had  cost  less.  Medicine  had  not  been  so 
lucrative  as  the  manufacture  of  varnish.  Externally 
the  house  displayed  stern  lines  of  unadorned  brick — 
the  custom-made  style  of  Benham  in  the  first  throes  of 
expansion  before  Mr.  Pierce's  imagination  had  been 
stirred.  Mr.  Taylor  had  bought  it  as  it  stood,  and  his 
wife  had  made  no  attempt  to  alter  the  outside,  which 
was,  after  all,  inoffensively  homely.  But  the  interior 
was  bewildering  to  Selma's  gaze  in  its  suggestion  of  cosey 
comfort.  Pretty,  tasteful  things,  many  of  them  inex- 
pensive knick-knacks  of  foreign  origin — a  small  picture, 
a  bit  of  china,  a  mediaeval  relic — were  cleverly  placed  as 
a  'relief  to  the  conventional  furniture.  Selma  had  been 
used  to  formalism  in  household  garniture — to  a  best 
room  little  used  and  precise  with  the  rigor  of  wax 
flowers  and  black  horse-hair,  and  to  a  living  room  where 
the  effect  sought  was  purely  utilitarian.  Her  new  home, 
in  spite  of  its  colored  glass  and  iron  stag,  was  arranged 
in  much  this  fashion,  as  were  the  houses  of  her  neigh- 
bors which  she  had  entered. 

Selma  managed  to  seat  herself  on  the  one  straight- 
backed  chair  in  the  room.  From  this  she  was  promptly 
driven  by  Mrs.  Taylor  and  established  in  one  corner  of 
a  lounge  with  a  soft  silk  cushion  behind  her,  and  fur- 
ther propitiated  by  the  proffer  of  a  cup  of  tea  in  a  dainty 
cup  and  saucer.  All  this,  including  Mrs.  Taylor's  musi- 
cal voice,  easy  speech,  and  ingratiating  friendliness, 
alternately  thrilled  and  irritated  her.  She  would  have 
liked  to  discard  her  hostess  from  her  thought  as  a  light 
creature  unworthy  of  intellectual  seriousness,  but  she 
found  herself  fascinated  and  even  thawed  in  spite  of 
herself. 

39 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"  Fm  glad  to  have  the  opportunity  really  to  talk  to 
you,"  said  Mrs.  Taylor.  "  At  the  church  reunions  one 
is  so  liable  to  interruptions.  If  Fm  not  mistaken,  you 
taught  school  before  you  were  married?" 

"  For  a  short  time. " 

"  That  must  have  been  interesting.  It  is  so  practical 
and  definite.  M,y  life,"  she  added  deprecatingly,  "  has 
been  a  thing  of  threads  and  patches — a  bit  here  and  a 
bit  there." 

She  paused,  but  without  forcing  a  response,  pro- 
ceeded blithely  to  touch  on  her  past  by  way  of  illustra- 
tion. The  war  had  come  just  when  she  was  grown  up, 
and  her  kin  in  Maryland  were  divided  on  the  issue. 
Her  father  had  taken  his  family  abroad,  but  her  heart 
was  in  the  keeping  of  a  young  officer  on  the  Northern 
side — now  her  husband.  Loss  of  property  and  bitter- 
ness of  spirit  had  kept  her  parents  expatriated,  and  she, 
with  them,  had  journeyed  from  place  to  place  in  Eu- 
rope. She  had  seen  many  beautiful  places  and  beauti- 
ful things.  At  last  Major  Taylor  had  come  for  her  and 
carried  her  off  as  his  bride  to  take  up  again  her  life  as 
an  American. 

"  I  am  interested  in  Benham,"  she  continued,  "  and 
I  count  on  you,  Mrs.  Babcock,  to  help  make  the  new 
church  what  it  ought  to  be  artistically — worthy  of  all 
the  energy  and  independence  there  is  in  this  place." 

Selma's  eye  kindled.  The  allusion  to  foreign  lands 
had  aroused  her  distrust,  but  this  patriotic  avowal 
warmed  her  pulses. 

"  Every  one  is  so  busy  with  private  affairs  here,  owing 

to  the  rapid  growth  of  the  city,"  pursued  Mrs.  Taylor, 

"  that  there  is  danger  of  our  doing  inconsiderately  things 

which  cannot  easily  be  set  right  hereafter.     An  ugly  or 

30 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

tawdry-looking  building  may  be  an  eyesore  for  a  genera 
tion.  I  know  that  we  have  honest  and  skilful  me- 
chanics in  Benham,  but  as  trustees  of  the  church  funds, 
shouldn't  we  at  least  make  the  effort  to  get  the  bes'j 
talent  there  is  ?  If  we  have  the  cleverest  architect  here, 
so  much  the  better.  An  open  competition  will  enable 
us  to  find  out.  After  all  Benham  is  only  one  city  among 
many,  and  a  very  new  city.  Why  shouldn't  we  take 
advantage  of  the  ideas  of  the  rest  of  the  country — the 
older  portion  of  the  country  ?" 

"  Mr.  Pierce  built  our  house,  and  we  think  it  very 
satisfactory  and  pretty." 

Selma's  tone  was  firm,  but  she  eyed  her  hostess  nar- 
rowly. She  had  begun  of  late  to  distrust  the  aesthetic 
worth  of  the  colored  glass  and  metal  stag,  and,  though 
she  was  on  her  guard  against  effrontery,  she  wished  to 
know  the  truth.  She  knew  that  Mr.  Pierce,  with  fine 
business  instinct,  had  already  conveyed  to  her  husband 
the  promise  that  he  should  furnish  the  varnish  for  the 
new  church  in  case  of  his  own  selection,  which,  as  Bab- 
cock  had  remarked,  would  be  a  nice  thing  all  round. 

Mrs.  Taylor  underwent  the  scrutiny  without  flinch- 
ing. "  I  have  nothing  to  say  against  Mr.  Pierce.  He  is 
capable  within  his  lights.  Indeed  I  think  it  quite  pos- 
sible that  we  shall  get  nothing  more  satisfactory  else- 
where. Mr.  Flagg's  grim  pile  is  anything  but  encour- 
aging. That  may  sound  like  an  argument  against  my 
plan,  but  in  the  case  of  the  Flagg  house  there  was  no 
competition ;  merely  unenlightened  choice  on  the  one 
side  and  ignorant  experimenting  on  the  other." 

"  You  don't  seem  to  think  very  highly  of  the  appear- 
ance of  Benham/'  said  Selma.  The  remark  was  slightly 
interrogative,  but  was  combative  withal.  She  wished 
31 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

to  know  if  everything,  from  the  Flagg  mansion  down, 
was  open  to  criticism,  but  she  would  fain  question  the 
authority  of  the  censor — this  glib,  graceful  woman 
whose  white,  starched  cuffs  seemed  to  make  light  of  her 
own  sober,  unadorned  wrists. 

This  time  Mrs.  Taylor  flushed  faintly.  She  realized 
that  their  relations  had  reached  a  critical  point,  and 
that  the  next  step  might  be  fatal.  She  put  down  her 
teacup,  and  leaning  forward,  said  with  smiling  confi- 
dential eagerness,  "  I  don't.  I  wouldn't  admit  it  to 
anyone  else.  But  what's  the  use  of  mincing  matters 
with  an  intelligent  woman  like  you  ?  I  might  put  yon 
off  now,  and  declare  that  Benham  is  well  enough.  But 
you  would  soon  divine  what  I  really  think,  and  that 
would  be  the  end  of  confidence  between  us.  I  like  hon- 
esty and  frankness,  and  I  can  see  that  you  do.  My 
opinion  of  Benham  architecture  is  that  it  is  slip-shod 
and  mongrel.  There!  You  see  I  put  myself  in  your 
hands,  but  I  do  so  because  I  feel  sure  you  nearly  agree 
with  me  already.  You  know  it's  so,  but  you  hate  to 
acknowledge  it." 

Selma's  eyes  were  bright  with  interest.  She  felt  flat- 
tered by  the  appeal,  and  there  was  a  righteous  assurance 
in  Mrs.  Taylor's  manner  which  was  convincing.  She 
opened  her  mouth  to  say  something — what  she  did  not 
quite  know — but  Mrs.  Taylor  raised  her  hand  by  way 
of  interdiction. 

"  Don't  answer  yet.  Let  me  show  you  what  I  mean. 
I'm  as  proud  of  Benham  as  anyone.  I  am  absorbed  by 
the  place,  I  look  to  see  it  fifty  years  hence— perhaps 
less — a  great  city,  and  a  beautiful  city  too.  Just  at 
present  everything  is  commercial  and — and  ethical ; 
yes,  ethical.  We  wish  to  do  and  dare,  but  we  haven't 
32 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

time  to  adorn  as  we  construct.  That  is,  most  of  us 
haven't.  But  if  a  few  determined  spirits — women 
though  they  be— cry  '  halt/  art  may  get  a  chance  here 
and  there  to  assert  herself.  Look  at  this/'  she  said, 
gliding  across  the  room  and  holding  up  a  small  vase  of 
exquisite  shape  and  coloring,  "  I  picked  it  up  on  the 
other  side  and  it  stands  almost  for  a  lost  art.  The 
hands  and  taste  which  wrought  it  represent  the  trans- 
mitted patience  and  skill  of  hundreds  of  years.  We  like 
to  rush  things  through  in  a  few  weeks  on  a  design 
hastily  conceived  by  a  Mr.  Pierce  because  we  are  so 
earnest.  Now,  we  won't  do  it  this  time,  will  we  ?" 

"  No,  we  won't,"  said  Selma.  "  I  see  what  you  mean. 
I  was  afraid  at  first  that  you  didn't  give  us  credit  for  the 
earnestness — for  the  ethical  part.  That's  the  first  thing, 
the  great  thing  according  to  my  idea,  and  it's  what 
distinguishes  us  from  foreigners, — the  foreigners  who 
made  that  vase,  for  instance.  But  I  agree  with  you 
that  there's  such  a  thing  as  going  too  fast,  and  very 
likely  some  of  the  buildings  here  aren't  all  they  might 
be.  We  don't  need  to  model  them  on  foreign  patterns, 
but  we  must  have  them  pretty  and  right." 

"Certainly,  certainly,  my  dear.  What  we  should 
strive  for  is  originality — American  originality  ;  but 
soberly,  slowly.  Art  is  evolved  painfully,  little  by 
little ;  it  can't  be  bought  ready-made  at  shops  for  the 
asking  like  tea  and  sugar.  If  we  invite  designs  for  the 
new  church,  we  shall  give  the  youths  of  the  country  who 
have  ideas  seething  in  their  heads  a  chance  to  ex- 
press themselves.  Who  knows  but  we  may  unearth  a 
genius  ?" 

"Who  knows?"  echoed  Selma,  with  her  spiritual 
look.  "  Yes,  you  are  right,  Mrs.  Taylor.  I  will  help 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

you.  As  you  say,  there  must  be  hundreds  of  young 
men  who  would  like  to  do  just  that  sort  of  thing.  I 
know  myself  what  it  is  to  have  lived  in  a  small  place 
without  the  opportunity  to  show  what  one  could  do  ; 
to  feel  the  capacity,  but  to  be  without  the  means  and 
occasion  to  reveal  what  is  in  one.  And  now  that  I 
understand  we  really  look  at  things  the  same  way,  Fm 
glad  to  join  with  you  in  making  Benham  beautiful.  As 
you  say,  we  women  can  do  much  if  we  only  will.  I've 
the  greatest  faith  in  woman's  mission  in  this  new,  in- 
teresting nation  of  ours.  Haven't  you,  Mrs.  Taylor  ? 
Don't  you  believe  that  she,  in  her  new  sphere  of  useful- 
ness, is  one  of  the  great  moving  forces  of  the  Republic  ?  " 
Selma  was  talking  rapidly,  and  had  lost  every  trace  of 
suspicious  restraint.  She  spoke  as  one  transfigured. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  answered  Mrs.  Taylor,  checking  any 
disposition  she  may  have  felt  to  interpose  qualifications. 
She  could  acquiesce  generally  without  violence  to  her 
convictions,  and  she  could  not  afford  to  imperil  the 
safety  of  the  immediate  issue — her  church.  "I  felt 
sure  you  would  feel  so  if  you  only  had  time  to  reflect," 
she  added.  "If  yon  vote  with  us,  you  will  have  the 
pleasant  consciousness  of  knowing  that  you  have  ad- 
vanced woman's  cause  just  so  much." 

"  You  may  count  on  my  vote." 

Selma  stopped  on  her  way  home,  although  it  was  late, 
to  purchase  some  white  cuffs.  As  she  approached,  her 
husband  stood  on  the  grass-plot  in  his  shirt  sleeves 
with  a  garden-hose.  He  was  whistling,  and  when  he  saw 
her  he  kissed  his  hand  at  her  jubilantly, 

"  Well,  sweetheart,  where  you  been  ?" 

"  Visiting.    Taking  tea  with  Mrs.  Taylor.    I've  prom- 
ised her  to  vote  to  invite  bids  for  the  church  plans." 
34 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Babcock  looked  surprised.  "  That  '11  throw  Pierce 
out,  won't  it  ?  " 

"  Not  unless  some  one  else  submits  a  better  design 
than  he." 

Lewis  scratched  his  head.  "I  considered  that  order 
for  varnish  as  good  as  booked." 

"  I'm  not  sure  Mr.  Pierce  knows  as  much  as  he  thinks 
he  does,"  said  Selma  oracularly.  "We  shall  get  plans 
from  New  York  and  Boston.  If  we  don't  like  them  we 
needn't  take  them.  But  that's  the  way  to  get  an  artistic 
thing.  And  we're  going  to  have  the  most  artistic  church 
in  Benham.  I'm  sorry  about  the  varnish,  but  a  prin- 
ciple is  involved." 

Babcock  was  puzzled  but  content.  He  cared  far  more 
for  the  disappointment  to  Pierce  than  for  the  loss  of 
the  order.  But  apart  from  the  business  side  of  the 
question,  he  never  doubted  that  his  wife  must  be  right, 
nor  did  he  feel  obliged  to  inquire  what  principle  was 
involved.  He  was  pleased  to  have  her  associate  with 
Mrs.  Taylor,  and  was  satisfied  that  she  would  be  a  credit 
to  him  in  any  situation  where  occult  questions  of  art  or 
learning  were  mooted.  He  dropped  his  hose  and  pulled 
her  down  beside  him  on  the  porch  settee.  There  was  a 
beautiful  sunset,  and  the  atmosphere  was  soft  and  re 
freshing.  Selma  felt  satisfied  with  herself.  As  Mrs 
Taylor  had  said,  it  was  her  vote  which  would  turn  the 
scale  on  behalf  of  progress.  Other  things,  too,  were  in 
her  mind.  She  was  not  ready  to  admit  that  she  had 
been  instructed,  but  she  was  already  planning  changes 
in  her  own  domestic  interior,  suggested  by  what  she 
had  seen. 

She  let  her    husband  squeeze    her  hand,   but  her 
thoughts    were    wandering    from    his   blandishments. 
36 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Presently  she  said  :  "  Lewis,  I've  begun  lately  to  doubt 
if  that  stag  is  really  pretty." 

"  The  stag  ?  Well,  now,  Pve  always  thought  it  tasty 
— one  of  the  features  of  our  little  place. " 

"  No  one  would  mistake  it  for  a  real  deer.  It  looks 
to  me  almost  comical." 

Babcock  turned  to  regard  judicially  the  object  of  her 
criticism. 

"  I  like  it,"  he  said  somewhat  mournfully,  as  though 
he  were  puzzled.  "  But  if  you  don't,  we'll  change  the 
stag  for  something  else.  I  wish  you  to  be  pleased  first 
of  all.  Instead  we  might  have  a  fountain  ;  two  children 
under  an  umbrella  I  saw  the  other  day.  It  was  cute. 
How  does  that  strike  you  ?" 

"  I  can't  tell  without  seeing  it.  And,  Lewis,  promise 
me  that  you  won't  select  anything  new  of  that  sort  un- 
til I  have  looked  at  it." 

"Very  well,"  Babcock  answered  submissively.  But 
he  continued  to  look  puzzled.  In  his  estimate  of  his 
wife's  superiority  to  himself  in  the  subtleties  of  life,  it 
had  never  occurred  to  him  to  include  the  choice  of  every- 
day objects  of  art.  He  had  eyes  and  could  judge  for 
himself  like  any  other  American  citizen.  Still,  he  was 
only  too  glad  to  humor  Selma  in  such  an  unimportant 
matter,  especially  as  he  was  eager  for  her  happiness. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

SEVEN  designs  for  the  new  church  were  submitted, 
including  three  from  Benham  architects.  The  leaven 
of  influence  exercised  by  spirits  like  Mrs.  Taylor  was 
only  just  beginning  to  work,  and  the  now  common  cus- 
tom of  competing  outside  one's  own  bailiwick  was  still 
in  embryo.  Mr.  Pierce's  design  was  bold  and  sumptu- 
ous. His  brother-in-law  stated  oracularly  not  long  be- 
fore the  day  when  the  plans  were  to  be  opened  :  "  Pierce 
is  not  a  man  to  be  frightened  out  of  a  job  by  frills. 
Mark  my  words ;  he  will  give  us  an  elegant  thing." 
Mr.  Pierce  had  conceived  the  happy  thought  of  combin- 
ing a  Moorish  mosque  and  New  England  meeting-house 
in  a  conservative  and  equitable  medley,  evidently  hoping 
thereby  to  be  both  picturesque  and  traditional.  The 
result,  even  on  paper,  was  too  bold  for  some  of  his 
admirers.  The  chairman  was  heard  to  remark  :  "  I 
shouldn't  feel  as  though  I  was  in  church.  That  dome 
set  among  spires  is  close  to  making  a  theatre  of  the 
house  of  God." 

The  discomfiture  of  the  first  architect  of  Benham 
cleared  the  way  for  the  triumph  of  Mrs.  Taylor's  taste. 
The  design  submitted  by  Wilbur  Littleton  of  New  York, 
seemed  to  her  decidedly  the  most  meritorious.  It  was 
graceful,  appropriate,  and  artistic  ;  entirely  in  harmony 
with  religious  associations,  yet  agreeably  different  from 
every  day  sanctuaries.  The  choice  lay  between  his  and 
37 


428553 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

that  presented  by  Mr.  Cass,  a  Benham  builder — a  matter- 
of-fact,  serviceable,  but  very  conventional  edifice.  The 
hard-headed  stove  dealer  on  the  committee  declared  in 
favor  of  the  native  design,  as  simpler  and  more  solid. 

"It'll  be  a  massive  structure  "he  said,  "and  when 
it's  finished  no  one  will  have  to  ask  what  it  is.  It'll 
speak  for  itself.  Mr.  Cass  is  a  solid  business  man,  and 
we  know  what  we'll  get.  The  other  plan  is  what  I  call 
dandified." 

It  was  evident  to  the  committee  that  the  stove  dealer's 
final  criticism  comprehended  the  architect  as  well  as  his 
design.  Several  competitors — Littleton  among  them — 
had  come  in  person  to  explain  the  merits  of  their  respec- 
tive drawings,  and  by  the  side  of  solid,  red-bearded, 
nndecorative  Mr.  Cass,  Littleton  may  well  have  seemed 
a  dandy.  He  was  a  slim  young  man  with  a  delicate, 
sensitive  face  and  intelligent  brown  eyes.  He  looked 
eager  and  interesting.  In  his  case  the  almost  gaunt 
American  physiognomy  was  softened  by  a  suggestion  of 
poetic  impulses.  Yet  the  heritage  of  nervous  energy 
was  apparent.  His  appearance  conveyed  the  impression 
of  quiet  trigness  and  gentility.  His  figure  lent  itself  to 
his  clothes,  which  were  utterly  inconspicuous,  judged  by 
metropolitan  standards,  but  flawless  in  the  face  of  hard- 
headed  theories  of  life,  and  aroused  suspicion.  He  spoke 
in  a  gentle  but  earnest  manner,  pointing  out  clearly,  yet 
modestly,  the  merits  of  his  composition. 

Selma  had  never  seen  a  man  just  like  him  before,  and 
she  noticed  that  from  the  outset  his  eyes  seemed  to  be 
'astened  on  her  as  though  his  words  were  intended  for 
her  special  benefit  She  had  never  read  the  lines — 
indeed  they  had  not  been  written — 
*'  I  think  I  could  be  happy  with  a  gentleman  like  you." 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Nor  did  the  precise  sentiment  contained  in  them 
shape  itself  in  her  thought.  Yet  she  was  suddenly  con- 
scious that  she  had  been  starving  for  lack  of  intellectual 
companionship,  and  that  he  was  the  sort  of  man  she  had 
hoped  to  meet — the  sort  of  man  who  could  appreciate 
her  and  whom  she  could  appreciate. 

It  did  not  become  necessary  for  Selma  to  act  as  Mr. 
Littleton's  champion,  for  the  stove  dealer's  criticism 
found  only  one  supporter.  The  New  Yorker's  design 
for  the  church  was  so  obviously  pretty  and  suitable  that 
a  majority  of  the  Committee  promptly  declared  in  its 
favor.  The  successful  competitor,  who  had  remained  a 
day  to  learn  the  result,  was  solemnly  informed  of  the 
decision,  and  then  elaborately  introduced  to  the  mem- 
bers. In  shaking  hands  with  him,  Selma  experienced  a 
shade  of  embarrassment.  It  was  plain  that  his  words  to 
her,  spoken  with  a  low  bow — "  I  am  very  much  gratified 
that  my  work  pleases  you  "  conveyed  a  more  spiritual 
significance  than  was  contained  in  his  thanks  to  the 
others.  Still  he  seemed  more  at  his  ease  with  Mrs.  Taylor, 
who  promptly  broke  the  ice  of  the  situation  by  fixing 
him  as  a  close  relative  of  friends  in  Baltimore.  Straight- 
way he  became  sprightly  and  voluble,  speaking  of  things 
and  people  beyond  Selma's  experience.  This  social 
jargon  irritated  Selma.  It  seemed  to  her  a  profanation 
of  a  noble  character,  yet  she  was  annoyed  because  she 
could  not  understand. 

Mrs.  Taylor,  having  discovered  in  Mr.  Littleton  one 
who  should  have  been  a  friend  long  before,  succeeded 
in  carrying  him  off  to  dinner.  Yet,  before  taking  his 
leave,  he  came  back  to  Selma  for  a  few  words.  She  had 
overheard  Mrs.  Taylor's  invitation,  and  she  asked  her- 
self why  she  too  might  not  become  better  acquainted 
39 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

with  this  young  man  whose  attitude  toward  her  was 
that  of  respectful  admiration.  To  have  a  strange  young 
man  to  dine  off-hand  struck  her  as  novel.  She  had  a 
general  conviction  that  it  would  seem  to  Lewis  closely 
allied  to  light  conduct,  and  that  only  foreigners  or 
frivolous  people  let  down  to  this  extent  the  bars  of 
family  life.  Now  that  Mrs.  Taylor  had  set  her  the 
example,  she  was  less  certain  of  the  moral  turpitude  of 
such  an  act,  but  she  concluded  also  that  her  husband 
would  be  in  the  way  at  table.  What  she  desired  was  an 
opportunity  for  a  long,  interesting  chat  about  high 
things. 

While  she  reflected,  he  was  saying  to  her,  "  I  under- 
stand that  your  committee  is  to  supervise  my  work  until 
the  new  church  is  completed,  so  I  shall  hope  to  have 
the  opportunity  to  meet  you  occasionally.  It  will  be 
necessary  for  me  to  make  trips  here  from  time  to  time 
to  see  that  everything  is  being  done  correctly  by  the 
mechanics." 

"  Do  yon  go  away  immediately  ?  " 

"  It  may  be  that  I  shall  be  detained  by  the  arrange- 
ments which  I  must  make  here  until  day  after  to- 
morrow." 

"  If  you  would  really  like  to  see  me,  I  live  at  25 
Onslow  Avenue." 

"  Thank  you  very  much."  Littleton  took  out  a 
small  memorandum  book  and  carefully  noted  the 
address.  "  Mrs.  Babcock,  25  Onslow  Avenue.  I  shall 
make  a  point  of  calling  to-morrow  afternoon  if  I  stay — 
and  probably  I  shall." 

He  bowed  and  left  Selma  pleasantly  stirred  by  the 
interview.  His  voice  was  low  and  his  enunciation 
sympathetically  fluent.  She  said  to  herself  tha+  "he 
40 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

would  give  him  afternoon  tea  and  they  would  compare 
ideas  together.  She  felt  sure  that  his  must  be  interest- 
ing. 

Later  in  the  evening  at  Mrs.  Taylor's,  when  there 
was  a  pause  in  their  sympathetic  interchange  of  social 
and  aesthetic  convictions,  Littleton  said  abruptly  : 

"Tell  me  something,  please,  about  Mrs.  Babcock. 
She  has  a  suggestive  as  well  as  a  beautiful  face,  and  it  is 
easy  to  perceive  that  she  is  genuinely  American — not 
one  of  the  women  of  whom  we  were  speaking,  who  seem 
to  be  ashamed  of  their  own  institutions,  and  who  ape 
foreign  manners  and  customs.  I  fancy  she  would  illus- 
trate what  I  was  saying  just  now  as  to  the  vital  impor- 
tance of  our  clinging  to  our  heritage  of  independent 
thought — of  accepting  the  truth  of  the  ancient  order  of 
things  without  allowing  its  lies  and  demerits  to  en- 
slave us." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Mrs.  Taylor.  "  She  certainly 
does  not  belong  to  the  dangerous  class  of  whom  you 
were  speaking.  I  was  flattering  myself  that  neither  did 
I,  for  I  was  agreeing  with  all  you  said  as  to  the  need  of 
cherishing  our  native  originality.  Yet  I  must  confess 
that  now  that  you  compare  me  with  her  (the  actual 
comparison  is  my  own,  but  you  instigated  it),  I  begin 
to  feel  more  doubts  about  myself — that  is  if  she  is  the 
true  species,  and  Fm  inclined  to  think  she  is.  Pray 
excuse  this  indirect  method  of  answering  your  inquiry  ; 
it  is  in  the  nature  of  a  soliloquy  ;  it  is  an  airing  of 
thoughts  and  doubts  which  have  been  harassing  me  for 
a  fortnight — ever  since  I  knew  Mrs.  Babcock.  Really, 
Mr.  Littleton,  I  can  tell  you  very  little  about  her.  She 
is  a  new-comer  on  the  horizon  of  Benham  ;  she  has 
been  married  very  recently ;  I  believe  she  has  taught 
41 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

school  and  that  she  was  brought  up  not  far  from  here. 
She  is  as  proud  as  Lucifer  and  sometimes  as  beautiful  ; 
she  is  profoundly  serious  and — and  apparently  very  ig- 
norant. I  fancy  she  is  clever  and  capable  in  her  way, 
but  I  admit  she  is  an  enigma  to  me  and  that  I  have  not 
solved  it.  I  can  see  she  does  not  approve  of  me  alto- 
gether. She  regards  me  with  suspicion,  and  yet  she 
threw  the  casting  vote  in  favor  of  my  proposal  to  open 
the  competition  for  the  church  to  architects  from  other 
places.  I  am  trying  to  like  her,  for  I  wish  to  believe  in 
everything  genuinely  American  if  I  can.  There,  I  have 
told  you  all  I  know,  and  to  a  man  she  may  seem  alto- 
gether attractive  and  inspiring." 

"  Thank  you.  I  had  no  conception  that  I  was  broach- 
ing such  a  complex  subject.  She  sounds  interesting, 
and  my  curiosity  is  whetted.  You  have  not  mentioned 
the  husband." 

"  To  be  sure.  A  burly,  easy-going  manufacturer  of 
varnish,  without  much  education,  I  should  judge.  He 
is  manifestly  her  inferior  in  half  a  dozen  ways,  but  I 
understand  that  he  is  making  money,  and  he  looks 
kind." 

Wilbur  Littleton's  life  since  he  had  come  to  man's 
estate  had  been  a  struggle,  and  he  was  only  just  begin- 
ning to  make  headway.  He  had  never  had  time  to  com- 
miserate himself,  for  necessity  on  the  one  hand  and 
youthful  ambition  on  the  other  had  kept  his  energies 
tense  and  his  thoughts  sane  and  hopeful.  He  and  his 
sister  Pauline,  a  year  his  senior,  had  been  left  orphans 
while  both  were  students  by  the  death  of  their  father  on 
the  battlefield.  To  persevere  in  their  respective  tastes 
and  work  out  their  educations  had  been  a  labor  of  love, 
but  an  undertaking  which  demanded  rigorous  self-de- 
42 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

nial  on  the  part  of  each.  Wilbur  had  determined  to 
become  an  architect.  Pauline,  early  interested  in  the 
dogma  that  woman  must  no  longer  be  barred  from  intel- 
lectual companionship  with  man,  had  sought  to  culti- 
vate herself  intelligently  without  sacrificing  her  broth- 
er's domestic  comfort.  She  had  succeeded.  Their  home 
in  New  York,  despite  its  small  dimensions  and  frugal 
hospitality,  was  already  a  favorite  resort  of  a  little 
group  of  professional  people  with  busy  brains  and  light 
purses.  Wilbur  was  in  the  throes  of  early  progress. 
He  had  no  relatives  or  influential  friends  to  give  him 
business,  and  employment  came  slowly.  He  had  been 
an  architect  on  his  own  account  for  two  years,  but  was 
still  obliged  to  supplement  his  professional  orders  by 
work  as  a  draughtsman  for  others.  Yet  his  enthusiasm 
kept  him  buoyant.  In  respect  to  his  own  work  he  was 
scrupulous  ;  indeed,  a  stern  critic.  He  abhorred  clap- 
trap and  specious  effects,  and  aimed  at  high  standards 
of  artistic  expression.  This  gave  him  position  among 
his  brother  architects,  but  was  incompatible  with  me- 
teoric progress.  His  design  for  the  church  at  Benham 
represented  much  thought  and  hope,  and  he  felt  happy 
at  his  success. 

Littleton's  familiarity  with  women,  apart  from  his 
sister,  had  been  slight,  but  his  thoughts  regarding  them 
were  in  keeping  with  a  poetic  and  aspiring  nature.  He 
hoped  to  marry  some  day,  and  he  was  fond  of  picturing 
to  himself  in  moments  of  reverie  the  sort  of  woman  to 
whom  his  heart  would  be  given.  In  the  shrine  of  his 
secret  fancy  she  appeared  primarily  as  an  object  of 
reverence,  a  white-souled  angel  of  light  clad  in  the  grace- 
ful outlines  of  flesh,  an  Amazon  and  yet  a  winsome, 
tender  spirit,  and  above  all  a  being  imbued  with  the 
43 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

stimulating  intellectual  independence  he  had  been 
iaught  to  associate  with  American  womanhood.  She 
vould  be  the  loving  wife  of  his  bosom  and  the  intelli- 
gent sharer  of  his  thoughts  and  aspirations — often  their 
juide.  So  pure  and  exacting  was  his  ideal  that  while 
alive  to  the  value  of  coyness  and  coquetry  as  elements  of 
feminine  attraction  for  others,  Wilbur  had  chosen  to  re- 
gard the  maiden  of  his  faith  as  too  serious  a  spirit  to 
condescend  to  such  vanities  ;  and  from  a  similar  vein  of 
appreciation  he  was  prone  to  think  of  her  as  unadorned, 
or  rather  untarnished,  by  the  gewgaws  of  fashionable 
dressmaking  and  millinery.  His  first  sight  of  Selma 
had  made  him  conscious  that  here  was  a  face  not  unlike 
what  he  had  hoped  to  encounter  some  day,  and  he  had 
instinctively  felt  her  to  be  sympathetic.  He  was  even 
conscious  of  disappointment  when  he  heard  her  addressed 
as  Mrs.  Babcock.  Evidently  she  was  a  free-born  soul, 
unhampered  by  the  social  weaknesses  of  a  large  city, 
and  illumined  by  the  spiritual  grace  of  native  womanli- 
ness. So  he  thought  of  her,  and  Mrs.  Taylor's  diagnosis 
rather  confirmed  than  impaired  his  impression,  for  in 
Mrs.  Taylor  Wilbur  felt  he  discerned  a  trace  of  an- 
tagonism born  of  cosmopolitan  prejudice — an  inability 
to  value  at  its  true  worth  a  nature  not  moulded  on  con- 
ventional lines.  Rigorous  as  he  was  in  his  judgments, 
and  eager  to  disown  what  was  cheap  or  shallow,  mere 
conventionalism,  whether  in  art  or  daily  life,  was  no 
less  abhorrent  to  him.  Here,  he  said  to  himself,  was  an 
original  soul,  ignorant  and  unenlightened  perhaps,  but 
endowed  with  swift  perception  and  capable  of  noble  de- 
velopment. 

The  appearance  of  Selma's  scroll  and  glass  bedizened 
house  did  not  affect  this  impression.     Wilbur  was  first 
44 


UNLEAYENED  BREAD 

of  all  appreciatively  an  American.  That  is  he  recog- 
nized that  native  energy  had  hitherto  been  expended  on 
the  things  of  the  spirit  to  the  neglect  of  things  material. 
As  an  artist  he  was  supremely  interested  in  awakening 
and  guiding  the  national  taste  in  respect  to  art,  but  at 
the  same  time  he  was  thoroughly  aware  that  the  pecul- 
iar vigor  and  independence  of  character  which  he  knew 
as  Americanism  was  often  utterly  indifferent  to,  or  igno- 
rant of,  the  value  of  aesthetics.  After  all,  art  was  a 
secondary  consideration,  whereas  the  inward  vision 
which  absorbed  the  attention  of  the  thoughtful  among 
his  countrymen  and  countrywomen  was  an  absolute 
essential  without  which  the  soul  must  lose  its  fineness. 
He  himself  was  seeking  to  show  that  beauty,  in  external 
material  expression,  was  not  merely  consistent  with 
strong  ideals  but  requisite  to  their  fit  presentment.  He 
recognized  too  that  the  various  and  variegated  departures 
from  the  monotonous  homely  pattern  of  the  every-day 
American  house,  which  were  evident  in  each  live  town, 
were  but  so  many  indicators  that  the  nation  was  begin- 
ning to  realize  the  truth  of  this.  His  battle  was  with 
the  designers  and  builders  who  were  guiding  falsely  and 
flamboyantly,  not  with  the  deceived  victims,  nor  with 
those  who  were  still  satisfied  merely  to  look  inwardly,  and 
ignored  form  and  color.  Hence  he  would  have  been 
able  to  behold  the  Babcocks'  iron  stag  without  rancor 
had  the  animal  still  occupied  the  grass-plot.  Selma, 
when  she  saw  the  figure  of  her  visitor  in  the  door-way, 
congratulated  herself  that  it  had  been  removed.  It 
would  have  pleased  her  to  know  that  Mr.  Littleton  had 
already  placed  her  in  a  niche  above  the  level  of  mere 
grass-plot  considerations.  That  was  where  she  belonged 
of  course  ;  but  she  was  fearful  on  the  score  of  suspected 
45 


UNLEAVENED.  BREAD 

shortcomings.  So  it  was  gratifying  to  be  able  to  receive 
him  in  a  smarter  gown,  to  be  wearing  white  cuffs,  and 
to  offer  him  tea  with  a  touch  of  Mrs.  Taylor's  torment- 
ing urbanity.  Not  so  unreservedly  as  she.  That  would 
never  do.  It  was  and  never  would  be  in  keeping  with 
her  own  ideas  of  serious  self-respect.  Still  a  touch  of 
it  was  grateful  to  herself.  She  felt  that  it  was  a  grace 
and  enhanced  her  effectiveness. 

A  few  moments  later  Selma  realized  that  for  the  first 
time  since  she  had  lived  in  Benham  she  was  being 
understood  and  appreciated.  She  felt  too  that  for  the 
first  time  she  was  talking  to  a  kindred  spirit — to  be  sure, 
to  one  different,  and  more  technically  proficient  in  con- 
crete knowledge,  possibly  more  able,  too,  to  express  his 
thoughts  in  words,  but  eminently  a  comrade  and 
sympathizer.  She  was  not  obliged  to  say  much.  Nor 
were,  indeed,  his  actual  words  the  source  of  her  realiza- 
tion. The  revelation  came  from  what  was  left  unsaid — 
from  the  silent  recognition  by  him  that  she  was  worthy 
to  share  his  best  thoughts  and  was  herself  a  serious 
worker  in  the  struggle  of  life.  No  graceful  but  galling 
attitude  of  superiority,  no  polite  indifference  to  her  soul- 
hunger,  no  disposition  to  criticise.  And  yet  he  was  no 
less  voluble,  clever,  and  spirited  than  Mrs.  Taylor.  She 
listened  with  rapt  interest  to  his  easy  talk,  which  was 
ever  grave  in  tone,  despite  his  pleasant  sallies.  He 
spoke  of  Benham  with  quick  appreciation  of  its  bus- 
tling energy,  and  let  her  see  that  he  divined  its  capacity 
for  greatness.  This  led  him  to  refer  with  kindling  eyes 
to  the  keen  impulse  toward  education  and  culture 
which  was  animating  the  younger  men  and  women  of 
the  country ;  to  the  new  beginnings  of  art,  literature, 
and  scientific  investigation.  At  scarcely  a  hint  from 
46 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

her  he  told  briefly  of  his  past  life  and  his  hopes,  and 
fondly  mentioned  his  sister  and  her  present  absorption 
in  some  history  courses  for  women. 

"And  yon?"  he  said.  "You  are  a  student,  too. 
Mrs.  Taylor  has  told  me,  but  I  should  have  guessed  it. 
Duties  even  more  interesting  claim  you  now,  but  it  is 
easy  to  perceive  that  you  have  known  that  other  happi- 
ness, '  To  scorn  delights  and  live  laborious  days/  " 

His  words  sounded  musical,  though  the  quotation 
from  Lycidas  was  unfamiliar  to  her  ears.  Her  brain 
was  thrilling  with  the  import  of  all  he  had  told  her— 
with  his  allusions  to  the  intellectual  and  ethical  move- 
ments of  Boston  and  New  York,  in  which  she  felt  her- 
self by  right  and  with  his  recognition  a  partner  and 
peer. 

"You  were  teaching  school  when  you  married,  I 
believe  ?  "  he  added. 

"  Yes." 

"And  before  that,  if  I  may  ask  ?  " 

"  I  lived  at  Westfield  with  my  father.  It  is  a  small 
country  town,  but  we  tried  to  be  in  earnest. " 

"  I  understand — I  understand.  You  grew  up  among 
the  trees,  and  the  breezes  and  the  brooks,  those  wonder- 
ful wordless  teachers.  I  envy  you,  for  they  give  one 
time  to  think — to  expand.  I  have  known  only  city  life 
myself.  It  is  stimulating,  but  one  is  so  easily  turned 
aside  from  one's  direct  purpose.  Do  you  write  at 
all?" 

"  Not  yet.  But  I  have  wished  to.  Some  day  I  shall. 
Just  now  I  have  too  many  domestic  concerns  to " 

She  did  not  finish,  for  Babcock's  heavy  tread  and 
whistle  resounded  in  the  hall  and  at  the  next  moment 
he  was  calling  "  Selma  !  " 

47 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

She  felt  annoyed  at  being  interrupted,  bnt  she  divined 
that  it  would  never  do  to  show  it. 

"  My  husband,"  she  said,  and  she  raised  her  voice  to 
ntter  with  a  sugared  dignity  which  would  have  done 
credit  to  Mrs.  Taylor, 

"  I  am  in  the  parlor,  Lewis." 

"Enter  your  chief  domestic  concern,"  said  Littleton 
blithely.  "A  happy  home  is  preferable  to  all  the 
poems  and  novels  in  the  world." 

Babcock,  pushing  open  the  door,  which  stood  ajar, 
stopped  short  in  his  melody. 

"  This  is  Mr.  Littleton,  Lewis.  The  architect  of  our 
new  church." 

"  Pleased  to  make  your  acquaintance."  And  by  way 
of  accounting  for  the  sudden  softening  of  his  brow, 
Babcock  added,  "I  set  you  down  at  first  as  one  of  those 
lightning-rod  agents.  There  was  one  here  last  week 
who  wouldn't  take  '  no 3  for  an  answer." 

"  He  has  an  advantage  over  me,"  answered  Littleton 
with  a  laugh.  "In  my  business  a  man  can't  solicit 
orders.  He  has  to  sit  and  wait  for  them  to  come  to 
him." 

"I  want  to  know.  My  wife  thinks  a  lot  of  your 
drawings  for  the  new  church." 

"I  hope  to  make  it  a  credit  to  your  city.  I've  just 
been  saying  to  your  wife,  Mr.  Babcock,  that  Benham 
has  a  fine  future  before  it.  The  very  atmosphere  seems 
charged  with  progress." 

Babcock  beamed  approvingly.  "  It's  a  driving  place, 
sir.  The  man  in  Benham  who  stops  by  the  way-side  to 
scratch  his  head  gets  left  behind.  When  we  moved 
into  this  house  a  year  ago  looking  through  that  win- 
dow we  were  at  the  jnmping-off  place ;  now  you  see 
48 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

houses  cropping  up  in  every  direction.  It's  going  to 
be  a  big  city.  Pleased  to  have  you  stop  to  supper 
with  us,"  he  added  with  burly  suavity  as  their  visitor 
rose. 

Littleton  excused  himself  and  took  his  leave.  Bab- 
cock  escorted  him  to  the  front  door  and  full  of  his 
subject  delayed  him  on  the  porch  to  touch  once  more 
on  the  greatness  of  Benham.  There  was  a  clumsy 
method  too  in  this  optimistic  garrulity,  for  at  the  close 
he  referred  with  some  pride  to  his  own  business  career, 
and  made  a  tender  of  his  business  card,  "Lewis  Bab- 
cock  &  Company,  Varnishes,"  with  a  flourish.  "If 
you  do  anything  in  my  line,  pleased  to  accommodate 
you." 

Littleton  departing,  tickled  by  a  pleasant  sense  of 
humor,  caught  through  the  parlor  window  a  last 
glimpse  of  Selma's  inspired  face  bowing  gravely,  yet 
wistfully,  in  acknowledgment  of  his  lifted  hat,  and  he 
strode  away  under  the  spell  of  a  brain  picture  which  he 
transmuted  into  words  :  "  There's  the  sort  of  case  where 
the  cynical  foreigner  fails  to  appreciate  the  true  import 
of  our  American  life.  That  couple  typifies  the  elements 
of  greatness  in  our  every-day  people.  At  first  blush  the 
husband's  rough  and  material,  but  he's  shrewd  and 
enterprising  and  vigorous — the  bread  winner.  He's 
enormously  proud  of  her,  and  he  has  reason  to  be,  for 
she  is  a  constant  stimulus  to  higher  things.  Little  by 
little,  and  without  his  knowing  it,  perhaps,  she  will 
smoothe  and  elevate  him,  and  they  will  develop  together, 
growing  in  intelligence  and  cultivation  as  they  wax  in 
worldly  goods.  After  all,  woman  is  our  most  marvellous 
native  product — that  sort  of  woman.  Heigho  ! "  Hav- 
ing given  vent  to  this  sigh,  Littleton  proceeded  to  recog- 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

nize  the  hopelessness  of  the  personal  situation  by  mnr- 
muring  with  a  slightly  forced  access  of  sprightliness 

"  If  she  be  not  fair  for  me, 
What  care  I  how  fair  she  be  ?  " 

Still  he  intended  to  see  more  of  Mrs.  Babcock,  and 
that  without  infringing  the  tenth  or  any  other  com- 
mandment. To  flirt  with  a  married  woman  savored  to 
him  of  things  un-American  and  unworthy,  and  Littleton 
had  much  too  healthy  an  imagination  to  rhapsodize  from 
such  a  stand-point.  Yet  he  foresaw  that  they  might  be 
mutually  respecting  friends. 


CHAPTER  V. 

SELMA  knew  intuitively  that  an  American  woman  was 
able  to  cook  a  smooth  custard,  write  a  poem  and  control 
real  society  with  one  and  the  same  brain  and  hand,  and 
she  was  looking  forward  to  the  realization  of  the  apothe- 
osis ;  but,  though  she  was  aware  that  children  are  the 
natural  increment  of  wedlock,  she  had  put  the  idea 
from  her  ever  since  her  marriage  as  impersonal  and 
vaguely  disgusting.  Consequently  her  confinement  came 
as  an  unwelcome  interruption  of  her  occupations  and 
plans. 

Her  connection  with  the  committee  for  the  new 
church  had  proved  an  introduction  to  other  interests, 
charitable  and  social.  One  day  she  was  taken  by  Mrs. 
Taylor  to  a  meeting  of  the  Benham  Woman's  Institute, 
a  literary  club  recently  established  by  Mrs.  Margaret 
Rodney  Earle,  a  Western  newspaper  woman  who  had 
made  her  home  in  Benham.  Selma  came  in  upon  some 
twenty  of  her  own  sex  in  a  hotel  private  parlor  hired 
weekly  for  the  uses  of  the  Institute.  Mrs.  Earle,  the 
president,  a  large  florid  woman  of  fifty,  with  gray  hair 
rising  from  the  brow,  fluent  of  speech,  endowed  with  a 
public  manner,  a  commanding  bust  and  a  vigorous, 
ingratiating  smile,  wielded  a  gavel  at  a  little  table  and 
directed  the  exercises.  A  paper  on  Shakespeare's  heroines 
was  read  and  discussed.  Selections  on  the  piano  followed. 
A  thin  woman  in  eye-glasses,  the  literary  editor  of  the 
51 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Benham  Sentinel,  recited  "  Curfew  must  not  ring  to- 
night," and  a  visitor  from  Wisconsin  gave  an  exhibition 
in  melodious  whistling.  In  the  intervals,  tea,  chocolate 
with  whipped  cream  and  little  cakes  were  dispensed. 

Selma  was  absorbed  and  thrilled.  What  could  be 
more  to  her  taste  than  this  ?  At  the  close  of  the  whist- 
ling exercise,  Mrs.  Earle  came  over  and  spoke  to  her. 
They  took  a  strong  fancy  to  each  other  on  the  spot. 
Selma  preferred  a  person  who  would  tell  you  everything 
about  herself  and  to  whom  you  could  tell  everything 
about  yourself  without  preliminaries.  People  like  Mrs. 
Taylor  repressed  her,  but  the  motherly  loquacity  and 
comprehension  of  Mrs.  Earle  drew  her  out  and  thawed 
at  once  and  forever  the  ice  of  acquaintanceship.  Before 
she  quite  realized  the  extent  of  this  fascination  she  had 
promised  to  recite  something,  and  as  in  a  dream,  but 
with  flushing  cheeks,  she  heard  the  President  rap  the 
table  and  announce  "  You  will  be  gratified  to  hear  that 
a  talented  friend  who  is  with  us  has  kindly  consented  to 
favor  us  with  a  recital.  I  have  the  honor  to  introduce 
Mrs.  Lewis  Babcock." 

After  the  first  flush  of  nervousness,  Selma's  grave 
dignity  came  to  her  support,  and  justified  her  com- 
pletely in  her  own  eyes.  Her  father  had  been  fond  of 
verse,  especially  of  verse  imbued  with  moral  melancholy, 
and  at  his  suggestion  she  had  learned  and  had  been 
wont  to  repeat  many  of  the  occasional  pieces  which  he 
cut  from  the  newspapers  and  collected  in  a  scrap-book. 
Her  own  preference  among  these  was  the  poem,  "  0  why 
should  the  spirit  of  mortal  be  proud  ?  "  which  she  had 
been  told  was  a  great  favorite  of  Abraham  Lincoln. 
It  was  this  piece  which  came  into  her  mind  when  Mrs. 
Earle  broached  the  subject,  and  this  she  proceeded  to 
52 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

deliver  with  augnst  precision.  She  spoke  clearly  and 
solemnly  without  the  trace  of  the  giggling  protestation 
which  is  so  often  incident  to  feminine  diffidence.  She 
treated  the  opportunity  with  the  seriousness  expected, 
for  though  the  Institute  was  not  proof  against  light  and 
diverting  contributions,  as  the  whistling  performance 
indicated,  levity  of  spirit  would  have  been  out  of  place. 

"  'Tie  a  twink  of  the  eye,  'tis  a  draught  of  the  breath 
From  the  blossom  of  health  to  the  paleness  of  death ; 
From  the  gilded  saloon  to  the  bier  and  the  shroud, 
O  why  should  the  spirit  of  mortal  be  proud  ?  " 

Selma  enjoyed  the  harmony  between  the  long,  slow 
cadence  of  the  metre  and  the  important  gravity  of 
the  theme.  She  rolled  out  the  verses  with  the  intensity 
of  a  seer,  and  she  looked  a  beautiful  seer  as  well.  Lib- 
eral applause  greeted  her  as  she  sat  down,  though  the 
clapping  woman  is  apt  to  be  a  feeble  instrument  at  best. 
Selma  knew  that  she  had  produced  an  impression  and 
she  was  moved  by  her  own  effectiveness.  She  was  com- 
pelled to  swallow  once  or  twice  to  conceal  the  tears  in 
her  voice  while  listening  to  the  congratulations  of  Mrs. 
Earle.  The  words  which  she  had  just  recited  were 
ringing  through  her  brain  and  seemed  to  her  to  express 
the  pitch  at  which  her  life  was  keyed. 

Selma  was  chosen  a  member  of  the  Institute  at  the 
next  meeting,  and  forthwith  she  became  intimate  with 
the  president.  Mrs.  Margaret  Rodney  Earle  was,  as 
Bhe  herself  phrased  it,  a  live  woman.  She  supported 
herself  by  writing  for  the  newspapers  articles  of  a  mor- 
ally utilitarian  character — for  instance  a  winter's  series, 
published  every  Saturday,  " Hints  on  Health  and  Cult- 
ure," or  again,  "Receipts  for  fhe  Parlor  and  the 
53 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Kitchen."  She  also  contributed  poetry  of  a  pensive 
cast,  and  chatty  special  correspondence  flavored  with 
personal  allusion.  She  was  one  of  the  pioneers  in  mod- 
ern society  journalism,  which  at  this  time,  however,  was 
comparatively  veiled  and  delicate  in  its  methods.  Be- 
sides, she  was  a  woman  of  tireless  energy,  with  theories 
on  many  subjects  and  an  ardor  for  organization.  She 
advocated  prohibition,  the  free  suffrage  of  woman,  the 
renunciation  of  corsets,  and  was  interested  in  reforms 
relating  to  labor,  the  pauper  classes  and  the  public 
schools.  In  behalf  of  any  of  these  causes  she  was  ready 
from  time  to  time  to  dash  off  an  article  at  short  notice 
or  address  an  audience.  But  her  dearest  concern  was 
the  promotion  of  woman's  culture  and  the  enlargement 
of  woman's  sphere  of  usefulness  through  the  club.  The 
idea  of  the  woman's  club,  which  was  taking  root  over 
the  country,  had  put  in  the  shade  for  the  time  being  all 
her  other  plans,  including  the  scheme  of  a  society  for 
making  the  golden-rod  the  national  flower.  As  the 
founder  and  president  of  the  Benham  Institute,  she  felt 
that  she  had  found  an  avocation  peculiarly  adapted  to 
her  capacities,  and  she  was  already  actively  in  corre- 
spondence with  clubs  of  a  similar  character  in  other 
cities,  in  the  hope  of  forming  a  national  organization  for 
mutual  enlightenment  and  support. 

Mrs.  Earle  received  Selma  by  invitation  at  her  lodg- 
ings the  following  day,  and  so  quickly  did  their  friend- 
ship ripen  that  at  the  end  of  two  hours  each  had  told 
the  other  everything.  Selma  was  prone  instinctively  to 
regard  as  aristocratic  and  un-American  any  limitations 
to  confidence.  The  evident  disposition  on  the  part  of 
Mrs.  Earle  to  expose  promptly  and  without  reserve  the 
facts  of  her  past  and  her  plans  for  the  future  seemed  to 
54 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Selma  typical  of  an  interesting  character,  and  she  was 
thankful  to  make  a  clean  breast  in  her  turn  as  far  as 
was  possible.  Mrs.  Earle's  domestic  experience  had 
been  thorny. 

"  I  had  a  home  once,  too,"  she  said,  "  a  happy  home, 
I  thought.  My  husband  said  he  loved  me.  But  almost 
from  the  first  we  had  trouble.  It  went  on  so  from 
month  to  month,  and  finally  we  agreed  to  part.  He 
objected,  my  dear,  to  my  living  my  own  life.  He  didn't 
like  me  to  take  an  interest  in  things  outside  the  house — 
public  matters.  I  was  elected  on  the  school-board — -the 
only  woman — and  he  ought  to  have  been  proud.  He 
said  he  was,  at  first,  but  he  was  too  fond  of  declaring 
that  a  woman's  place  is  in  her  kitchen.  One  day  I  said 
to  him,  '  Ellery,  this  can't  go  on.  If  we  can't  agree 
we'd  better  separate.  A  cat-aud-dog  life  is  no  life  at 
all.'  He  answered  back,  'I'm  not  asking  you  to  leave 
me,  but  if  you're  set  on  it  don't  let  me  hinder  you,  Mar- 
garet. You  don't  need  a  man  to  support  you.  You're 
as  good  as  a  man  yourself.'  He  meant  that  to  be  sar- 
castic, I  suppose.  '  Yes,'  said  I,  '  thank  God,  I  think  I 
can  take  care  of  myself,  even  though  I  am  a  woman.' 
That  was  the  end  of  it.  There  was  no  use  for  either  of 
us  to  get  excited.  I  packed  my  things,  and  a  few  morn- 
ings later  I  said  to  him,  '  Good-by,  Ellery  Earle  :  I 
wish  you  well,  and  I  suppose  you're  my  husband  still, 
but  I'm  going  to  live  my  own  life  without  let  or  hind- 
rance from  any  man.  There's  your  ring.'  My  holding 
out  the  ring  was  startling  to  him,  for  he  said,  'Aren't 
you  going  to  be  sorry  for  this,  Margaret  ? '  '  No,'  said 
I,  *  I've  thought  it  all  out,  and  it's  best  for  both  of  us. 
There's  your  ring.'  He  wouldn't  take  it,  so  I  dropped 
it  OP  the  table  and  went  out.  Some  people  miss  it,  and 
55 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

misbelieve  I  was  ever  married.  That  was  close  on  to 
twenty  years  ago,  and  I've  never  seen  him  since.  When 
the  war  broke  out  I  heard  he  enlisted,  but  what's  be- 
come of  him  I  don't  know.  Maybe  he  got  a  divorce. 
I've  kept  right  on  and  lived  my  own  life  in  my  own  way, 
and  never  lacked  food  or  raiment.  I'm  forty-five  years 
old,  but  I  feel  a  young  woman  still." 

Notwithstanding  Mrs.  Earle's  business-like  directness 
and  the  protuberance  of  her  bust  in  conclusion,  by  way 
of  reasserting  her  satisfaction  with  the  results  of  her 
action,  there  was  a  touch  of  plaintiveness  in  her  confes- 
sion which  suggested  the  womanly  author  of  "  Hints  on 
Culture  and  Hygiene,"  rather  than  the  man-hater.  This 
was  lost  on  Selma,  who  was  fain  to  sympathize  purely 
from  the  stand-point  of  righteousness. 

"  It  was  splendid,"  she  said.  "  He  had  no  right  to 
prevent  you  living  your  own  life.  No  husband  has  that 
right." 

Mrs.  Earle  brushed  her  eyes  with  her  handkerchief. 
"  You  musn't  think,  my  dear,  that  I'm  not  a  believer  in 
the  home  because  mine  has  been  unhappy — because  my 
husband  didn't  or  couldn't  understand.  The  true  home 
is  the  inspirer  and  nourisher  of  all  that  is  best  in  life — 
in  our  American  life ;  but  men  must  learn  the  new  les- 
son. There  are  many  homes — yours,  I'm  sure — where 
the  free-born  American  woman  has  encouragement  and 
the  opportunity  to  expand." 

"  Oh,  yes.  My  husband  lets  me  do  as  I  wish.  I 
made  him  promise  before  I  accepted  him  that  he 
wouldn't  thwart  me ;  that  he'd  let  me  live  my  own 
life." 

Selma  was  so  appreciative  of  Mrs.  Earle,  and  so  ener- 
getic and  suggestive  in  regard  to  the  scope  of  the  Insti- 
56 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

tute,  that  she  was  presently  chosen  a  member  o*  the 
council,  which  was  the  body  charged  with  the  super- 
vision of  the  fortnightly  entertainments.  It  occurred 
to  her  as  a  brilliant  conception  to  have  Littleton  address 
the  club  on  "Art,"  and  she  broached  the  subject  to 
him  when  he  next  returned  to  Benham  and  appeared 
before  the  church  committee.  He  declared  that  he  was 
too  busy  to  prepare  a  suitable  lecture,  but  he  yielded 
finally  to  her  plea  that  he  owed  it  to  himself  to  let  the 
women  of  Benham  hear  his  views  and  opinions. 

"  They  are  wives  and  they  are  mothers, "  said  Selma 
sententiously.  "  It  was  a  woman's  vote,  you  remember, 
which  elected  you  to  build  our  church.  You  owe  it  to 
Art ;  don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

A  logical  appeal  to  his  conscience  was  never  lost  on 
Littleton.  Besides  he  was  glad  to  oblige  Mrs.  Babcock, 
who  seemed  so  earnest  in  her  desire  to  improve  the 
aesthetic  taste  of  Benham.  Accordingly,  he  yielded. 
The  lecture  was  delivered  a  few  weeks  later  and  was  a 
marked  success,  for  Littleton's  earnestness  of  theme  and 
manner  was  relieved  by  a  graceful,  sympathetic  de- 
livery. Selma,  whose  social  aplomb  was  increasing  every 
day,  glided  about  the  rooms  with  a  contented  mien 
receiving  felicitations  and  passing  chocolate.  She  en- 
joyed the  distinction  of  being  the  God  behind  the  cur- 
tain. 

A  few  days  later  the  knowledge  that  she  herself  was 
to  become  a  mother  was  forced  upon  her  attention,  and 
was  a  little  irksome.  Of  necessity  her  new  interests 
would  be  interrupted.  Though  she  did  not  question 
that  she  would  perform  maternal  duties  fitly  and  fully, 
they  seemed  to  her  less  peculiarly  adapted  to  her  than 
concerns  of  the  intellect  and  the  spirit.  However,  the 
67 


UNLEAVENED  BKEAD 

possession  of  a  little  daughter  was  more  precious  to  her 
than  she  had  expected,  and  the  consciousness  that  the 
tiny  doll  which  lay  upon  her  breast,  was  flesh  of  her 
flesh  and  bone  of  her  bone  affected  her  agreeably  and 
stirred  her  imagination.  It  should  be  reared,  from  the 
start,  in  the  creed  of  soul  independence  and  expansion, 
and  she  herself  would  find  a  new  and  sacked  duty  in 
catering  to  the  needs  of  this  budding  intelligence.  So 
she  reflected  as  she  lay  in  bed,  but  the  outlook  was  a 
little  marred  by  the  thought  that  the  baby  was  the 
living  image  of  its  father — broad-featured  and  burly — 
a  not  altogether  desirable  cast  of  countenance  for  a  girl. 
What  a  pity,  when  it  might  just  as  well  have  looked 
like  her. 

Babcock,  on  his  part,  was  transported  by  paternity. 
He  was  bubbling  over  with  appreciation  of  the  new 
baby,  and  fondly  believed  it  to  be  a  human  wonder. 
He  was  solicitous  on  the  score  of  its  infantile  ailments, 
and  loaded  it  with  gifts  and  toys  beyond  the  scope  of 
its  enjoyment.  He  went  about  the  house  whistling 
more  exuberantly  than  ever.  There  was  no  speck  on 
his  horizon  ;  no  fly  in  his  pot  of  ointment.  It  was  he 
who  urged  that  the  child  should  be  christened  promptly, 
though  Dr.  Glynn  was  not  disposed  to  dwell  on  the 
clerical  barbarism  as  to  the  destiny  of  unbaptized  in- 
fants. Babcock  was  cultivating  a  conservative  method: 
He  realized  that  there  was  no  object  in  taking  chances. 
Illogical  as  was  the  theory  that  a  healthy  dog  which  had 
bitten  him  should  be  killed  at  once,  lest  it  subsequently 
go  mad  and  he  contract  hydrophobia,  he  was  too  happy 
and  complacent  to  run  the  risk  of  letting  it  live.  So  it 
was  with  regard  to  baby.  But  Selma  chose  the  name. 
Babcock  preferred  in  this  order  another  Selma,  Sophia, 
68 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

after  his  mother,  or  a  compliment  to  the  wife  of  the 
President  of  the  United  States.  But  Selma,  as  the 
result  of  grave  thought,  selected  Muriel  Grace.  With- 
out knowing  exactly  why,  she  asked  Mrs.  Taylor  to  be 
godmother.  The  ceremony  was  solemn  and  inspiring 
to  her.  She  knew  from  the  glass  in  her  room  that  she 
was  looking  very  pretty.  But  she  was  weak  and  emo- 
tional. The  baby  behaved  admirably,  even  when  Lewis, 
trembling  with  pride,  held  it  out  to  Mr.  Glynn  for  bap- 
tism and  held  it  so  that  the  blood  rushed  to  its  head. 
"  I  baptize  thee  in  the  name  of  the  Father,  the  Son,  and 
the  Holy  Ghost. "  She  was  happy  and  the  tears  were  in 
her  eyes.  The  divine  blessing  was  upon  her  and  her 
house,  and,  after  all,  baby  was  a  darling  and  her  hus- 
band a  kind,  manly  soul.  With  the  help  of  heaven  she 
would  prove  herself  their  good  angel. 

When  they  returned  home  there  was  a  whistle  of  old 
silver  of  light,  graceful  design,  a  present  from  Mrs.  Tay- 
lor to  Muriel.  Her  aunt,  Mrs.  Farley,  compared  this  to 
its  disparagement  with  one  already  purchased  by  Lewis, 
on  the  gaudily  embossed  stem  of  which  perched  a 
squirrel  with  a  nut  in  its  mouth.  But  Selma  shook  her 
head.  "  Both  of  you  are  wrong,"  she  said  with  author- 
ity. "  This  is  a  beauty." 

"  It  doesn't  look  new  to  my  eyes,"  protested  Mrs. 
Farley. 

"  Of  course  it  isn't  new.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  she 
bought  it  while  travelling  abroad  in  Europe.  It's  artis- 
tic, and — and  I  shan't  let  baby  destroy  it." 

Babcock  glanced  from  one  gift  to  the  other  quizzically. 
Then  by  way  of  disposing  of  the  subject  he  seized  his 
daughter  in  his  arms  and  dandling  her  toward  the  ceil- 
ing cried,  "  If  it's  artistic  tilings  we  must  have,  this  is 
59 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

the  most  artistic  thing  which  I  know  of  in  the  wide 
world.     Aren't  yon,  little  sngar-plum  ?" 

Mrs.  Farley,  with  motherly  distrust  of  man,  appre- 
hensively followed  with  her  eyes  and  arms  the  gyrations 
of  rise  and  fall ;  but  Selma,  though  she  saw,  pursued 
the  current  of  her  own  thought  which  prompted  her  to 
examine  her  wedding-ring.  She  was  thinking  that, 
compared  with  Mrs.  Taylor's,  it  was  a  cart  wheel — a 
clumsy,  conspicuous  band  of  metal,  instead  of  a  delicate 
hoop.  She  wondered  if  Lewis  would  object  to  exchange 
it  for  another. 

With  the  return  of  her  strength,  Selma  took  up  again 
eagerly  the  tenor  of  her  former  life,  aiding  and  abetting 
Mrs.  Earle  in  the  development  of  the  Institute.  The 
president  was  absorbed  in  enlarging  its  scope  by  the 
enrollment  of  more  members,  and  the  establishment  of 
classes  in  a  variety  of  topics — such  as  literature,  science, 
philosophy,  current  events,  history,  art,  and  political 
economy.  She  aimed  to  construct  a  club  which  should 
be  social  and  educational  in  the  broadest  sense  by  mutual 
co-operation  and  energy.  Selma,  in  her  eagerness  to 
make  the  most  of  the  opportunities  for  culture  offered, 
committed  herself  to  two  of  the  new  topic  classes — 
"  Italian  and  Grecian  Art/'  and  "  The  Governments  of 
Civilization,"  and  as  a  consequence  found  some  difficulty 
in  accommodating  her  baby's  nursing  hours  to  these  en- 
gagements.  It  was  indeed  a  relief  to  her  when  the  doc- 
tor presently  pronounced  the  supply  of  her  breast-mil] 
inadequate.  She  was  able  to  assuage  Lewis'  regret  thav 
Muriel  should  be  brought  up  by  hand  with  the  informa- 
tion that  a  large  percentage  of  Benham  and  American 
mothers  were  similarly  barren  and  that  bottle  babies 
were  exceedingly  healthy.  She  had  gleaned  the  first 
60 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

fact  from  the  physician,  the  second  from  Mrs.  Earle, 
and  her  own  conclusion  on  the  subject  was  that  a  lack 
of  milk  was  an  indication  of  feminine  evolution  from 
the  status  of  the  brute  creation,  a  sign  of  spiritual  as 
opposed  to  animal  quality.  Selma  found  Mrs.  Earle 
sympathetic  on  this  point,  and  also  practical  in  her  sug- 
gestions as  to  the  rearing  of  infants  by  artificial  means, 
recommendations  concerning  which  were  contained  in 
one  of  her  series  of  papers  entitled  "  Mother  Lore/' 

The  theory  of  the  new  classes  was  co-operation.  That 
is,  the  members  successively,  turn  by  turn,  lectured  on 
the  topic,  and  all  were  expected  to  study  in  the  interim 
so  as  to  be  able  to  ask  questions  and  discuss  the  views  of 
the  lecturer.  Concerning  both  Italian  and  Grecian 
Art  and  the  Governments  of  Civilization,  Selma  knew 
that  she  had  convictions  in  the  abstract,  but  when  she 
found  herself  face  to  face  with  a  specific  lecture  on  each 
subject,  it  occurred  to  her  as  wise  to  supplement  her 
ideas  by  a  little  preparation.  The  nucleus  of  a  public 
library  had  been  recently  established  by  Joel  Flagg  and 
placed  at  the  disposal  of  Benham.  Here,  by  means  of 
an  encyclopaedia  and  two  hand-books,  Selma  was  able 
in  three  forenoons  to  compile  a  paper  satisfactory  to 
her  self-esteem  on  the  dynasties  of  Europe  and  their  in- 
feriority to  the  United  States,  but  her  other  task  was 
illumined  for  her  by  a  happy  incident,  the  promise  of 
Littleton  to  lend  her  books.  Indeed  he  seemed  delight- 
fully interested  in  both  of  her  classes,  which  was  especial- 
ly gratifying  in  view  of  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Taylor,  who 
was  a  member  of  the  Institute,  had  combated  the  new 
programme  on  the  plea  that  they  were  attempting  too 
much  and  that  it  would  encourage  superficiality.  But 
Littleton  seemed  appreciative  of  the  value  of  the  under- 
61 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

taking,  and  he  made  his  promise  good  forthwith  by  for- 
warding to  her  a  package  of  books  on  art,  among  them 
two  volumes  of  Ruskin.  Selma,  who  had  read  quota- 
tions from  Ruskiu  on  one  or  two  occasions  and  believed 
herself  an  admirer  of,  and  tolerably  familiar  with,  his 
writings,  was  thrilled.  She  promptly  immersed  herself 
in  "  Stones  of  Venice  "  and  "  Seven  Lamps  of  Archi- 
tecture," sitting  up  late  at  night  to  finish  them.  When 
she  had  read  these  and  the  article  in  the  encyclopaedia 
under  the  head  of  Art,  she  felt  bursting  with  her  sub- 
ject and  eager  to  air  her  knowledge  before  the  class. 
Her  lecture  was  acknowledged  to  be  the  most  stirring 
and  thorough  of  the  course. 

Reports  of  its  success  came  back  to  her  from  Littleton, 
who  offered  to  assist  his  pupil  further  by  practical 
demonstration  of  the  eternal  architectural  fitness  and 
nnfitness  of  things — especially  the  latter — in  walks 
through  the  streets  of  Benham.  But  six  times  in  as 
many  months,  however.  There  was  no  suggestion  of  co- 
quetry on  either  side  in  these  excursions,  yet  each 
enjoyed  them.  Littleton's  own  work  was  beginning  to 
assume  definite  form,  and  his  visits  to  Benham  became 
of  necessity  mo're  frequent ;  flying  trips,  but  he  general- 
ly managed  to  obtain  a  few  words  with  Selma.  He  con- 
tinned  to  lend  her  books,  and  he  invited  her  criticism 
on  the  slowly  growing  church  edifice.  The  responsibil- 
ity of  critic  was  an  absorbing  sensation  to  her,  but  the 
stark  glibness  of  tongue  which  stood  her  in  good  stead 
before  the  classes  of  the  Institute  failed  her  in  his  pres- 
ence— the  presence  of  real  knowledge.  She  wished  to 
praise,  but  to  praise  discriminatingly,  with  the  cant  of 
aesthetic  appreciation,  so  that  he  should  believe  that 
she  knew.  As  for  the  church  itself,  she  was  interested 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

in  it ;  it  was  fine,  of  course,  but  that  was  a  secondary 
consideration  compared  with  her  emotions.  His  predi- 
lection in  her  favor,  however,  readily  made  him  deaf  in 
regard  to  her  utterances.  He  scarcely  heeded  her  halt- 
ing, solemn,  counterfeit  transcendentalisms  ;  or  rather 
they  passed  muster  as  subtle  and  genuine,  so  spell  bound 
was  he  by  the  Delphic  beauty  of  her  criticising  expres- 
sion. It  was  enough  for  him  to  watch  her  as  she  stood 
with  her  head  on  one  side  and  the  worried  archangel 
look  transfiguring  her  profile.  What  she  said  was  lost 
in  his  reverie  as  to  what  she  was — what  she  represented 
in  his  contemplation.  As  she  looked  upon  his  handi- 
work he  was  able  to  view  it  with  different  eyes,  to  dis- 
cern its  weaknesses  and  to  gain  fresh  inspiration  from 
her  presence.  He  felt  that  it  was  growing  on  his  hands 
and  that  he  should  be  proud  of  it,  and  though,  perhaps, 
he  was  conscious  in  his  inner  soul  that  she  was  more  to 
him  than  another  man's  wife  should  be,  he  knew  too, 
that  no  word  or  look  of  his  had  offended  against  the 
absent  husband. 


63 


CHAPTER  VI. 

BY  the  end  of  another  six  months  Littleton's  work 
was  practically  completed.  Only  the  finishing  touches 
to  the  interior  decoration  remained  to  be  done.  The 
members  of  Rev.  Mr.  Glynn's  congregation,  including 
Mrs.  Hallett  Taylor,  were  thoroughly  satisfied  with  the 
appearance  of  the  new  church.  It  was  attractive  in  its 
lines,  yet  it  was  simple  and,  consequently,  in  keeping 
with  the  resources  of  the  treasury.  There  was  no  large 
bill  for  extras  to  be  audited,  as  possibly  would  have 
been  the  case  had  a  hard-headed  designer  like  Mr.  Pierce 
been  employed.  The  committee  felt  itself  entitled  to 
the  congratulations  of  the  community.  Nor  was  the 
community  on  the  whole  disposed  to  grumble,  for  home 
talent  had  been  employed  by  the  architect ;  under 
rigorous  supervision,  to  be  sure,  so  that  poor  material 
and  slap-dash  workmanship  were  out  of  the  question. 
Still,  payments  had  been  prompt,  and  Benham  was  able 
to  admire  competent  virtue.  The  church  was  a  monu- 
ment of  suggestion  in  various  ways,  artistic  and  ethical, 
and  it  shone  neatly  with  Babcock  varnish. 

One  morning  Selma  set  forth  by  agreement  with 
Littleton,  in  order  to  inspect  some  fresco  work.  Muriel 
Grace  was  ailing  slightly,  but  as  she  would  be  home  by 
mid-day,  she  bade  the  hired  girl  be  watchful  of  baby, 
and  kept  her  appointment.  The  child  had  grown  dear 
64 


UNLEAVENED  BKEAD 

to  her,  for  Muriel  was  a  charming  little  dot,  and  Selma 
had  already  begun  to  enjoy  the  maternal  delight  of 
human  doll  dressing,  an  extravagance  in  which  she  was 
lavishly  encouraged  by  her  husband.  Babcock  was  glad 
of  any  excuse  to  spend  money  on  his  daughter,  who 
seemed  to  him,  from  day  to  day,  a  greater  marvel  of 
precocity — such  a  child  as  became  Selma's  beauty  and 
cleverness  and  his  own  practical  common-sense. 

Selma  was  in  a  pensive  frame  of  mind  this  morning. 
Two  days  before  she  had  read  a  paper  at  the  Institute 
on  "  Motherhood,"  which  had  been  enthusiastically 
received.  Mrs.  Earle  had  printed  a  flattering  item  con- 
cerning it  in  the  Benham  Sentinel.  It  was  agreeable 
to  her  to  be  going  to  meet  Littleton,  for  he  was  the 
most  interesting  masculine  figure  in  her  life.  She  was 
sure  of  Lewis.  He  was  her  husband  and  she  knew  her- 
self to  be  the  apple  of  his  eye  ;  but  she  knew  exactly 
what  he  was  going  to  say  before  he  said  it,  and  much 
of  what  he  said  grated  on  her.  She  was  almost  equally 
sure  of  Littleton  ;  that  is  of  his  admiration.  His  com- 
panionship was  a  constant  pleasure  to  her.  As  a  married 
woman,  and  as  a  Christian  and  American  woman,  she 
desired  no  more  than  this.  But  on  the  other  hand,  she 
would  fain  have  this  admiring  companionship  continue  ; 
and  yet  it  could  not.  Littleton  had  told  her  the  day 
before  that  he  was  going  back  to  New  York  and  that  it 
was  doubtful  if  he  would  return.  She  would  miss  him. 
She  would  have  the  Institute  and  Mrs.  Earle  still,  but 
her  life  would  be  less  full. 

Littleton  was  waiting  for  her  at  the  church  entrance. 

She  followed  him  down  the  nave  to  the  chancel  where 

she  listened  dreamily  to  his  presentation  of  the  merits 

of  the  new  decoration.     He  seemed  inclined  to  talk,  and 

65 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

from  this  presently  branched  off  to  describe  with  enthu- 
siasm the  plates  of  a  French  book  on  interior  architect- 
ure, which  he  had  recently  bought  as  a  long- resisted 
but  triumphant  piece  of  extravagance.  Mechanically, 
they  turned  from  the  chancel  and  slowly  made  the 
round  of  the  aisles.  A  short  silence  succeeded  his  pro- 
fessional ardor.  His  current  of  thought,  in  its  reversion 
to  home  matters,  had  reminded  him  afresh  of  what  was 
perpetually  this  morning  uppermost  in  his  conscious- 
ness— his  coming  departure. 

"Now," he  said,  abruptly,  "is  the  most  favorable  op- 
portunity I  shall  have,  Mrs.  Babcock,  to  tell  you  how 
much  I  am  your  debtor.  I  shan't  despair  of  our  meeting 
again,  for  the  world  is  small,  and  good  friends  are 
sure  to  meet  sooner  or  later.  But  the  past  is  secure  to 
me  at  any  rate.  If  this  church  is  in  some  measure  what 
I  have  dreamed  and  wished  it  to  be,  if  my  work  with  all 
its  faults  is  a  satisfaction  to  myself,  I  wish  you  to  know 
how  much  you  have  contributed  to  make  it  what  it  is." 

The  words  were  as  a  melody  in  Selma's  ears,  and  she 
listened  greedily.  Littleton  paused,  as  one  seriously 
moved  will  pause  before  giving  the  details  of  an  impor- 
tant announcement.  She,  thinking  he  had  finished,  in- 
terjected with  a  touch  of  modesty,  "  I'm  so  glad.  But 
my  suggestions  and  criticisms  have  not  been  what  I 
meant  them  to  be.  It  was  all  new  to  me,  you  know." 

"  Oh,  yes.  It  hasn't  been  so  much  what  you  have  said 
in  words  which  has  helped  me,  though  that  has  been 
always  intelligent  and  uplifting.  I  did  not  look  for 
technical  knowledge.  You  do  not  possess  that,  of  course. 
There  are  women  in  New  York  who  would  be  able  to 
confuse  you  with  their  familiarity  with  these  things. 
And  yet  it  is  by  way  of  contrast  with  those  very  women 
66 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

— fine  women,  too,  in  their  way — that  you  have  been  my 
good  angel.  There  is  no  harm  in  saying  that.  I  should 
be  an  ingrate,  surely,  if  I  would  not  let  you  know  that 
your  sane,  simple  outlook  upon  life,  your  independent 
vision,  has  kept  my  brain  clear  and  my  soul  free.  I  am 
a  better  artist  and  a  better  man  for  the  experience. 
Good-by,  and  may  all  happiness  attend  you.  If  once  in 
a  while  you  should  find  time  to  write  to  a  struggling 
architect  named  Littleton,  he  will  be  charmed  to  do  your 
bidding — to  send  you  books  and  to  place  his  professional 
knowledge  at  your  service.  Good-by. " 

He  held  out  his  hand  with  frank  effusion.  He  was 
obviously  happy  at  having  given  utterance  to  his  sense 
of  obligation.  Selma  was  tingling  from  head  to  foot  and 
a  womanly  blush  was  on  her  cheek,  though  the  serious 
seraph  spoke  in  her  words  and  eyes.  She  felt  moved  to 
a  wave  of  unreserved  speech. 

"  What  you  have  said  is  very  interesting  to  me.  I 
wish  to  tell  you  how  much  I,  too,  have  enjoyed  our 
friendship.  The  first  time  we  met  I  felt  sure  we  should 
be  sympathetic,  and  we  have  been,  haven't  we  ?  One  of 
the  fine  things  about  friendships  between  men  and 
women  in  this  country  is  that  they  can  really  get  to 
know  each  other  without — er — harm  to  either.  Isn't  it  ? 
It's  such  a  pleasure  to  know  people  really,  and  I  feel  as 
if  I  had  known  you,  as  if  we  had  known  each  other 
really.  Fve  never  known  any  man  exactly  in  that  way, 
and  I  have  always  wanted  to.  Except,  of  course,  my  hus- 
band. And  he's  extremely  different — that  is,  his  tastes 
are  not  like  yours.  It's  a  happiness  to  me  to  feel  that  I 
have  been  of  assistance  to  you  in  your  work,  and  you 
have  been  equally  helpful  to  me  in  mine.  As  you  say,  I 
have  never  had  the  opportunity  to  learn  the  technical 
67 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

parts  of  art,  and  your  books  have  instructed  me  as  to 
that.  I  have  never  been  in  New  York,  but  I  understand 
what  yon  meant  about  your  friends,  those  other  women. 
I  suppose  society  people  must  be  constantly  diverted 
from  serious  work — from  the  intellectual  and  spiritual 
life.  Oh  yes,  we  ought  to  write.  Our  friendship  mustn't 
languish.  We  must  let  each  other  know  what  we  are 
thinking  and  doing.  Good-by." 

As  Selma  walked  along  the  street  her  heart  was  in  her 
mouth.  She  felt  pity  for  herself.  To  just  the  right  person 
she  would  have  confessed  the  discovery  that  she  had  made 
a  mistake  and  tied  herself  for  life  to  the  wrong  man.  It  was 
not  so  much  that  she  fancied  Littleton  which  distressed 
her,  for,  indeed,  she  was  but  mildly  conscious  of  infatua- 
tion. What  disturbed  her  was  the  contrast  between  him 
and  Babcock,  which  definite  separation  now  forced  upon 
her  attention.  An  indefinable  impression  that  Littleton 
might  think  less  of  her  if  she  were  to  state  this  soul  truth 
had  restrained  her  at  the  last  moment  from  disclosing 
the  secret.  Not  for  an  instant  did  she  entertain  the 
idea  of  being  false  to  Lewis.  Her  confession  would  have 
been  but  a  dissertation  on  the  inexorable  irony  of  fate, 
calling  only  for  sympathy,  and  in  no  way  derogating  from 
her  dignity  and  self-respect  as  a  wife.  Still,  she  had 
restrained  herself,  and  stopped  just  short  of  the  confi- 
dence. He  was  gone,  and  she  would  probably  not  see  him 
again  for  years.  That  was  endurable.  Indeed,  a  recog- 
nition of  the  contrary  would  not  have  seemed  to  her 
consistent  with  wifely  virtue.  What  brought  the  tears 
to  her  eyes  was  the  vision  of  continued  wedlock,  until 
death  intervened,  with  a  husband  who  could  not  under- 
stand. Could  she  bear  this  ?  Must  she  endure  it  ? 
There  was  but  one  answer  :  She  must.  At  the  thought 
68 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

she  bit  her  lip  with  the  intensity  and  sternness  of  a 
martyr.  She  would  be  faithful  to  her  marriage  vows,  but 
she  would  not  let  Lewis's  low  aims  interfere  with  the 
free  development  of  her  own  life. 

It  was  after  noon  when  she  reached  home.  She  was 
met  at  the  door  by  the  hired  girl  with  the  worried 
ejaculation  that  baby  was  choking.  The  doctor  was 
hastily  summoned.  He  at  once  pronounced  that  Muriel 
Grace  had  membranous  croup,  and  was  desperately  ill. 
Remedies  of  various  sorts  were  tried,  and  a  consulting 
physician  called,  but  when  Babcock  returned  from  his 
office  her  condition  was  evidently  hopeless.  The  child 
died  in  the  early  night.  Selma  was  relieved  to  hear  the 
doctor  tell  her  husband  that  it  was  a  malignant  case 
from  the  first,  and  that  nothing  could  have  averted  the 
result.  In  response  to  questions  from  Lewis,  however, 
she  was  obliged  to  admit  that  she  had  not  been  at  home 
when  the  acute  symptoms  appeared.  This  afforded 
Babcock  an  outlet  for  his  suffering.  He  spoke  to  her 
roughly  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  bitterly  suggesting 
neglect  on  her  part. 

"You  knew  she  wasn't  all  right  this  morning,  yet 
you  had  to  go  fiddle-faddling  with  that  architect  instead 
of  staying  at  home  where  you  belonged.  And  now  she's 
dead.  My  little  girl,  my  little  girl  ! "  And  the  big  man 
burst  out  sobbing. 

Selma  grew  deadly  pale.  No  one  had  ever  spoken  to 
her  like  that  before  in  her  life.  To  the  horror  of  her 
grief  was  added  the  consciousness  that  she  was  being  un- 
justly dealt  with.  Lewis  had  heard  the  doctor's  state- 
ment, and  yet  he  dared  address  her  in  such  terms. 
As  if  the  loss  of  the  child  did  not  fall  equally  on  her. 

"  If  it  were  to  be  done  over  again,  I  should  do  just 
69 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

the  same,"  she  answered,  with  righteous  quietness. 
"  To  all  appearances  she  had  nothing  but  a  little  cold. 
You  have  no  right  to  lay  the  blame  on  me,  her  mother." 
At  the  last  word  she  looked  ready  to  cry,  too. 

Babcock  regarded  her  like  a  miserable  tame  bull.  "  I 
didn't  mean  to,"  he  blubbered.  "  She's  taken  away 
from  me,  and  I'm  so  wretched  that  I  don't  know  what 
I'm  saying.  I'm  sorry,  Selma." 

He  held  out  his  arms  to  her.  She  was  ready  to  go  to 
them,  for  the  angel  of  death  had  entered  her  home  and 
pierced  her  heart,  where  it  should  be  most  tender.  She 
loved  her  baby.  Yet,  when  she  had  time  to  think,  she 
was  not  sure  that  she  wished  to  have  another.  When 
the  bitterness  of  his  grief  had  passed  away,  that  was 
the  hope  which  Lewis  ventured  to  express,  at  first  in  a 
whisper,  and  later  with  reiterated  boldness.  Selma  ac- 
quiesced externally,  but  she  had  her  own  opinions. 
Certain  things  which  were  not  included  in  "  Mother 
Lore,"  had  been  confided  by  Mrs.  Margaret  Rodney 
Earle  by  word  of  mouth  in  the  fulness  of  their  mutual 
soul-scourings,  and  had  remained  pigeon-holed  for 
future  reference  in  Selma's  inner  consciousness.  An- 
other baby  just  at  this  time  meant  interference  with 
everything  elevating.  There  was  time  enough.  In  a 
year  or  two,  when  she  had  established  herself  more 
securely  in  the  social  sphere  of  Benham,  she  would  pre- 
sent her  husband  with  a  second  child.  It  was  best  for 
them  both  to  wait,  for  her  success  was  his  success  ;  but 
it  would  be  useless  to  try  to  make  that  clear  to  him  in 
his  present  mood. 

So  she  put  away  her  baby  things,  dropping  tears  over 
the  little  socks  and  other  reminders  of  her  sorrow,  and 
took  up  her  life  again,  keeping  her  own  counsel.  The 
70 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

sympathy  offered  her  was  an  interesting  experience. 
Mrs.  Earle  came  to  her  at  once,  and  took  her  to  her 
bosom  ;  Mrs.  Taylor  sent  her  flowers  with  a  kind  note, 
which  set  Selma  thinking  whether  she  ought  not  to  buy 
mourning  note-paper ;  and  within  a  week  she  received 
a  visit  of  condolence  from  Mr.  Glynn,  rather  a  ghastly 
visit.  Ghastly,  because  Lewis  sat  through  it  all  with  red 
eyes,  very  much  as  though  he  were  listening  to  a  touch- 
ing exhortation  in  church.  To  be  sure,  he  gripped  the 
pastor's  hand  like  a  vice,  at  the  end,  and  thanked  him  for 
coming,  but  his  silent,  afflicted  presence  had  interfered 
with  the  free  interchange  of  thought  which  would 
have  been  possible  had  she  been  alone  with  the  clergy- 
man. The  subject  of  death,  and  the  whole  train  of  re- 
flections incident  to  it,  were  uppermost  in  her  mind, 
and  she  would  have  been  glad  to  probe  the  mysteries  of 
the  subject  by  controversial  argument,  instead  of  listen- 
ing to  hearty,  sonorous  platitudes.  She  listened  rather 
contemptuously,  for  she  recognized  that  Mr.  Glynn  was 
saying  the  stereotyped  thing  in  the  stereotyped  way, 
without  realizing  that  it  was  nothing  but  sacerdotal 
pap,  little  adapted  to  an  intelligent  soul.  What  was 
suited  to  Lewis  was  not  fit  for  her.  And  yet  her  baby's 
death  had  served  to  dissipate  somewhat  the  immediate 
discontent  which  she  felt  with  her  husband.  His  strong 
grief  had  touched  her  in  spite  of  herself,  and,  though 
she  blamed  him  still  for  his  inconsiderate  accusation, 
she  was  fond  of  him  as  she  might  have  been  fond  of 
some  loving  Newfoundland,  which,  splendid  in  awkward 
bulk,  caressed  her  and  licked  her  hand.  It  was  pleasant 
enough  to  be  in  his  arms,  for  the  touch  of  man — even 
the  wrong  man — was,  at  times,  a  comfort. 

She  took  up  again  with  determined  interest  her  rela- 
71 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

tions  to  the  Institute,  joining  additional  classes  and 
pursuing  a  variety  of  topics  of  study,  in  regard  to  some 
of  which  she  consulted  Littleton.  She  missed  his 
presence  less  than  she  had  expected,  especially  after 
they  had  begun  to  correspond  and  were  able  to  keep 
in  touch  by  letter.  His  letters  were  delightful.  They 
served  her  in  her  lecture  courses,  for  they  so  clearly  and 
concisely  expressed  her  views  that  she  was  able  to  use 
long  extracts  from  them  word  for  word.  And  every 
now  and  then  they  contained  a  respectful  allusion  which 
showed  that  he  still  retained  a  personal  interest  in  her. 
So  the  weeks  slipped  away  and  she  was  reasonably  happy. 
She  was  absorbed  and  there  was  nothing  new  to  mar  the 
tenor  of  her  life,  though  she  was  vaguely  conscious  that 
the  loss  of  their  little  girl  had  widened  the  breach  be- 
tween her  and  her  husband — widened  it  for  the  reason 
that  now,  for  the  first  time,  he  perceived  how  lonely  he 
was.  The  baby  had  furnished  him  with  constant  de- 
light and  preoccupation.  He  had  looked  forward  all 
day  to  seeing  it  at  night,  and  questions  relating  to  it 
had  supplied  a  never-ceasing  small  change  of  conversa- 
tion between  him  and  her.  He  had  let  her  go  her  way 
with  a  smile  on  his  face.  Selma  did  not  choose  to  dwell 
on  the  situation,  but  it  was  obvious  that  Lewis  con- 
tinued to  look  glum,  and  that  there  were  apt  to  be  long 
silences  between  them  at  meals.  Now  and  again  he 
would  show  some  impatience  at  the  continuous  recur- 
rence of  the  Institute  classes  as  a  bar  to  some  project  of 
domesticity  or  recreation,  as  though  she  had  not  been 
an  active  member  of  the  Institute  before  baby  was  born. 
One  of  the  plans  in  which  Mrs.  Earle  was  most  inter- 
ested was  a  Congress  of  Women's  Clubs,  and  in  the 
early  summer  of  the  same  year — some  four  months  sub. 
72 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

sequent  to  the  death  of  Muriel  Grace — a  small  begin- 
ning toward  this  end  was  arranged  to  take  place  in  Chi- 
cago. There  were  to  be  six  delegates  from  each  club, 
and  Selma  was  unanimously  selected  as  one  of  the  dele- 
gation from  the  Benham  Women's  Institute.  The  opin- 
ion was  generally  expressed  that  a  change  would  do  her 
good,  and  there  was  no  question  that  she  was  admirably 
fitted  to  represent  the  club.  Selma,  who  had  not  trav- 
elled a  hundred  miles  beyond  Benham  in  her  life,  was 
elated  at  the  prospect  of  the  expedition;  so  much-  so 
that  she  proudly  recounted  to  Lewis  the  same  evening 
the  news  of  her  appointment.  It  never  occurred  to  her 
that  he  would  wish  to  accompany  her,  and  when  he 
presently  informed  her  that  he  had  been  wishing  to  go 
to  Chicago  on  business  for  some  time,  and  that  the  date 
proposed  would  suit  him  admirably,  she  was  dum- 
founded.  Half  of  the  interest  of  the  expedition  would 
consist  in  travelling  as  an  independent  delegation.  A 
husband  would  be  in  the  way  and  spoil  the  savor  of  the 
occasion.  It  would  never  do,  and  so  Selma  proceeded 
to  explain.  She  wished  to  go  alone. 

"A  pack  of  six  women  travel  by  themselves  ?"  blurt- 
ed Lewis.  "  Suppose  there  were  an  accident  ?"  he 
added,  after  searching  his  brain  for  a  less  feeble  argu- 
ment. 

"  We  should  either  be  killed  or  we  shouldn't  be,"  said 
Selma  firmly.  "  We  are  perfectly  well  able  to  take  care 
of  ourselves.  Women  travel  alone  everywhere  every- 
day— that  is,  intelligent  American  women." 

Lewis  looked  a  little  sad.    "  I  thought,  perhaps,  it 
would  seem  nice  for  you  to  go  with  me,  Selma.    We 
haven't  been  off  since  we  were  married,  and  I  can  get 
"way  now  just  as  well  as  not." 
73 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"So  it  would  have  been  if  I  weren't  one  of  the  dele- 
gation. I  should  think  you  would  see,  Lewis,  that  your 
coming  is  out  of  the  question." 

So  it  proved.  Selma  set  forth  for  Chicago  on  the 
appointed  day,  made  many  new  acquaintances  among 
the  delegates,  and  was  pleased  to  be  introduced  and  re- 
ferred to  publicly  as  Mrs.  Selma  Babcock — a  form  of 
address  to  which  she  was  unaccustomed  at  Benham.  On 
the  night  before  her  departure,  being  in  pleasant  spirits, 
she  told  Lewis  that  her  absence  would  do  him  good, 
and  that  he  would  appreciate  her  all  the  more  on  her 
return. 

She  was  to  be  gone  a  week.  The  first  twenty-four 
hours  passed  gloomily  for  Babcock.  Then  he  began  to 
take  notice.  He  noticed  that  the  county  fair  was  fixed 
for  the  following  days.  He  had  hoped  to  carry  Selina 
there,  but,  as  she  was  not  to  be  had,  it  seemed  to  him 
sensible  to  get  what  enjoyment  from  it  he  could  alone. 
Then  it  happened  that  a  former  companion  of  his  bach- 
elor days  and  his  bachelor  habits,  a  commercial  trav- 
eller, whom  he  had  not  seen  since  his  marriage,  ap- 
peared on  the  scene. 

"  The  very  man  for  me  ! "  he  ejaculated,  jubilantly. 

The  obscurity  of  this  remark  was  presently  made  clear 
to  his  friend,  who  had  hoped  perhaps  to  enjoy  a  snug 
evening  at  Babcock's  domestic  hearth,  but  who  was  not 
averse  to  playing  a  different  part — that  of  cheering  up  a 
father  who  had  lost  his  baby,  and  whose  wife  had  left 
him  in  the  lurch.  He  assured  Babcock  that  a  regular 
old  time  outing — a  shaking  up — would  do  him  good, 
and  Babcock  was  ready  to  agree  with  him,  intending 
thereby  a  free-handed  two  days  at  the  fair.  As  has 
been  intimated,  his  manner  of  life  before  marriage  had 
74 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

not  been  irreproachable,  bnt  he  had  been  glad  of  an 
opportunity  to  put  an  end  to  the  mildly  riotous  and 
coarse  bouts  which  disfigured  his  otherwise  common- 
place existence.  He  had  no  intention  now  of  misbehav- 
ing himself,  but  he  felt  the  need  of  being  enlivened. 
His  companion  was  a  man  who  delighted  in  what  he 
called  a  lark,  and  whose  only  method  of  insuring  a  lark 
was  by  starting  in  with  whiskey  and  keeping  it  up. 
That  had  been  also  Babcock's  former  conception  of  a 
good  time,  and  though  he  had  dimly  in  mind  that  he 
was  now  a  husband  and  church-member,  he  strove  to 
conduct  himself  in  such  a  manner  as  to  maintain  his 
self-respect  without  becoming  a  spoil  sport. 

During  the  first  day  at  the  fair  Babcock  managed  to 
preserve  this  nice  distinction.  On  the  second,  he  lost 
account  of  his  conduct,  and  by  the  late  afternoon  was 
sauntering  with  his  friend  among  the  booths  in  the  com- 
pany of  two  suspicious  looking  women.  With  these 
same  women  the  pair  of  revellers  drove  o2  in  top  bug- 
gies just  before  dusk,  and  vanished  in  the  direction  of 
the  open  country. 


?5 


CHAPTER  VIL 

BABOOCK  returned  to  his  home  twenty-four  hours 
later  like  a  whipped  cur.  He  was  disgusted  with  him- 
self. It  seemed  to  him  incredible  that  he  should  have 
fallen  so  low.  He  had  sinned  against  his  wife  and  his 
own  self-respect  without  excuse ;  for  it  was  no  excuse 
that  he  had  let  himself  be  led  to  drink  too  much.  His 
heart  ached  and  his  cheek  burned  at  the  recollection  of 
his  two  days  of  debauchery.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  If 
only  he  were  able  to  cut  this  ugly  sore  in  his  soul  out 
with  a  knife  and  have  done  with  it  forever  1  But  that 
was  impossible.  It  stared  him  in  the  face,  a  haunting 
reality.  In  his  distress  he  asked  himself  whether  he 
would  not  go  to  Mr.  Glynn  and  make  a  clean  breast  of 
it ;  but  his  practical  instincts  answered  him  that  he 
would  none  the  less  have  made  a  beast  of  himself.  He 
held  his  head  between  his  hands,  and  stared  dejectedly 
at  his  desk.  Some  relief  came  to  him  at  last  only  from 
the  reflection  that  it  was  a  single  fault,  and  that  it  need 
never — it  should  never  be  repeated.  Selma  need  not 
know,  and  he  would  henceforth  avoid  all  such  tempta- 
tions. Terrible  as  it  was,  it  was  a  slip,  not  a  deliberate 
fault,  and  his  love  for  his  wife  was  not  in  question. 

Thus  reasoning,  he  managed  by  the  third  day  after  his 

return  to  reach  a  less  despondent  frame  of  mind.     While 

busy  writing  in  his  office  a  lady  was  announced,  and 

looking  up  he  encountered  the  meretricious  smile  of  the 

76 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

courtesan  with  whom  he  had  forgotten  himself.  She 
had  taken  a  fancy  to  her  victim,  and  having  learned 
that  he  was  well  to  do,  she  had  come  in  order  to  estab- 
lish, if  possible,  on  a  more  permanent  basis,  her  rela- 
tions with  him.  She  was  a  young  woman,  who  had 
been  drifting  from  place  to  place,  and  whose  profes- 
sional inclination  for  a  protector  was  heightened  by  the 
liking  which  she  had  conceived  for  him.  Babcock  re- 
called in  her  smile  merely  his  shame,  and  regarded  her 
reappearance  as  effrontery.  He  was  blind  to  her  pretti- 
ness  and  her  sentimental  mood.  He  asked  her  roughly 
what  she  wanted,  and  rising  from  his  chair,  he  bade  her 
be  gone  before  she  had  time  to  answer.  Nine  out  of 
ten  women  of  her  class  would  have  taken  their  dismissal 
lightly.  Some  might  have  answered  back  in  tones  loud 
enough  to  enlighten  the  clerks,  and  thus  have  accom- 
plished a  pretty  revenge  in  the  course  of  retreat.  This 
particular  Lesbian  was  in  no  humor  to  be  harshly 
treated.  She  was  a  little  desperate  and  Babcock  had 
pleased  her.  It  piqued  her  to  be  treated  in  such  a  fash- 
ion ;  accordingly,  she  held  her  ground  and  sat  down. 
She  tried  upon  him,  alternately,  irony  and  pathos.  He 
was  angry  but  confused  under  the  first,  he  became  sav- 
age and  merciless  under  the  second,  throwing  back  in 
her  teeth  the  suggestion  of  her  fondness,  and  stigmatiz- 
ing her  coarsely.  Then  she  became  angry  in  her  turn — 
angry  as  a  woman  whose  proffered  love  is  spurned.  The 
method  for  revenge  was  obvious,  and  she  told  him 
plainly  what  she  intended.  His  wife  should  know  at 
once  how  her  husband  passed  his  time  during  her  ab- 
sence. She  had  posted  herself,  and  she  saw  that  her 
shaft  hurt.  Babcock  winced,  but  mad  and  incredulous, 
he  threatened  her  with  arrest  and  drove  her  from  the 
77 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

room.  She  went  out  smiling,  but  with  an  ominous  look 
in  her  eyes,  the  remembrance  of  which  made  him  ask 
himself  now  and  again  if  she  could  be  vicious  enough,  01 
fool  enough,  to  keep  her  promise.  He  dismissed  the 
idea  as  improbable  ;  still  the  bare  chance  worried  him. 
Selma  was  to  arrive  early  the  next  morning,  and  he  had 
reconciled  himself  to  the  conclusion  that  she  need  never 
know,  and  that  he  would  henceforth  be  a  faithful  hus- 
band. Had  he  not  given  an  earnest  of  his  good  faith 
in  his  reception  of  his  visitor  ?  Surely,  no  such  untow- 
ard and  unnatural  accident  would  dash  the  cup  of  re- 
turning happiness  from  his  lips.  A  more  clever  man 
would  have  gone  straight  to  police  headquarters,  instead 
of  trusting  to  chance. 

A  night's  rest  reassured  him  as  to  the  idleness  of  the 
threat,  so  that  he  was  able  to  welcome  Selma  at  the 
railroad  station  with  a  comparatively  light  heart.  She 
was  in  high  spirits  over  the  success  of  her  expedition, 
and  yet  graciously  ready  to  admit  that  she  was  glad  to 
return  home — meaning  thereby,  to  her  own  bed  and 
bathing  facilities  ;  but  the  general  term  seemed  to  poor 
Lewis  a  declaration  of  wifely  devotion.  He  went  to  his 
business  with  the  mien  of  a  man  who  had  passed 
through  an  ordeal  and  is  beginning  life  again  ;  but  when 
he  returned  at  night,  as  soon  as  he  beheld  Selma,  he 
suspected  what  had  happened. 

She  was  awaiting  him  in  the  parlor.  Though  he  saw 
at  a  glance  that  she  looked  grave,  he  went  forward  to 
kiss  her,  but  she  rose  and,  stepping  behind  the  table, 
put  out  her  hand  forbiddingly. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  he  faltered, 

"  That  woman  has  been  here,"  was  her  slow,  scornful 
response. 

78 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"Selma,  I "  A  confusing  sense  of  hopelessness 

as  to  what  to  say  choked  Babcock's  attempt  to  articu- 
late. There  was  a  brief  silence,  while  he  looked  at  her 
imploringly  and  miserably. 

"  Is  it  true  what  she  says  ?  Have  you  been  false  to 
your  marriage  vows  ?  Have  you  committed  adultery?" 

"  My  God  !     Selma,  you  don't  understand." 

"It  is  an  easy  question  to  answer,  yes  or  no?" 

"  I  forgot  myself,  Selma.  I  was  drunk  and  crazy.  I 
ask  your  pardon." 

She  shook  her  head  coldly.  "  I  shall  have  nothing 
more  to  do  with  you.  I  cannot  live  with  you  any 
longer/' 

"Not  live  with  me?" 

"Would  you  live  with  me  if  it  were  I  who  had  for- 
gotten myself  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  would,  Selma.  You  don't  understand. 
I  was  a  brute.  I  have  been  wretched  ever  since.  But 
it  was  a  slip — an  accident.  I  drank  too  much,  and  it 
happened.  1  love  you,  Selma,  with  all  my  heart.  I 
have  never  been  false  to  you  in  my  affection." 

"  It  is  a  strange  time  to  talk  of  affection.  I  went 
away  for  a  week,  and  in  my  absence  you  insulted  me  by 
debauchery  with  a  creature  like  that.  Love  ?  Yon 
have  no  conception  of  the  meaning  of  the  word.  Oh 
no,  I  shall  never  live  with  you  again." 

Babcock  clinched  his  palms  in  his  distress  and  walked 
up  and  down.  She  stood  pale  and  determined 
looking  into  space.  Presently  he  turned  to  her  and 
asked  with  quiet  but  intense  solicitude,  "  You  don't 
mean  that  you're  going  to  leave  me  for  one  fault, 
we  being  husband  and  wife  and  the  little  girl  in 
her  grave  ?  I  said  you  don't  understand  and  you  don't. 
79 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

A  man's  a  man,  and  there  are  times  when  he's  been 
drinking  when  he's  liable  to  yield  to  temptation,  and 
that  though  he's  so  fond  of  his  wife  that  life  without 
her  would  be  misery.  This  sounds  strange  to  a  woman, 
and  it's  a  poor  excuse.  But  it  onght  to  count,  Selrua, 
when  it  comes  to  a  question  of  our  separating.  There 
would  be  happy  years  before  ns  yet  if  you  give  me 
another  chance." 

"Not  happy  years  for  me,"  she  replied  concisely. 
"  The  American  woman  does  not  choose  to  live  with  the 
sort  of  man  you  describe.  She  demands  from  her  hus- 
band what  he  demands  from  her,  faithfulness  to  the 
marriage  tie.  We  could  never  be  happy  again.  Our 
ideal  of  life  is  different.  I  have  made  excuses  for  you 
in  other  things,  but  my  soul  revolts  at  this." 

Babcock  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  in  silence,  then 
he  said,  a  little  sternly,  "  You  shouldn't  have  gone  away 
and  left  me.  I'm  not  blaming  you,  but  you  shouldn't 
have  gone."  He  walked  to  the  window  but  he  saw 
nothing.  His  heart  was  racked.  He  had  been  eager 
to  humiliate  himself  before  her  to  prove  his  deep  con- 
trition, but  he  had  come  to  the  end  of  his  resources, 
and  yet  she  was  adamant.  Her  charge  that  she  had 
been  making  excuses  for  him  hitherto  reminded  him 
that  they  had  not  been  really  sympathetic  for  some  time 
past.  With  his  back  turned  to  her  he  heard  her 
answer : 

"It  was  understood  before  I  agreed  to  marry  you 
that  I  was  to  be  free  to  follow  my  tastes  and  interests. 
It  is  a  paltry  excuse  that,  because  I  left  you  alone  for 
a  week  in  pursuit  of  them,  I  am  accessory  to  your 
sin." 

Babcock  faced  her  sadly.  "  The  sin's  all  mine,"  he 
80 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

said.  "I  can't  deny  that.  But,  Selma,  I  guess  I've 
been  pretty  lonely  ever  since  the  baby  died." 

"Lonely?"  she  echoed.  "Then  my  leaving  you 
will  not  matter  so  much.  Here,"  she  said,  slipping  off 
her  wedding-ring,  "  this  belongs  to  you."  She  remem- 
bered Mrs.  Earle's  proceeding,  and  though  she  had  not 
yet  decided  what  course  to  pursue  in  order  to  maintain 
her  liberty,  she  regarded  this  as  the  significant  and 
definite  act.  She  held  out  the  ring,  but  Babcock  shook 
his  head. 

"  The  law  doesn't  work  as  quick  as  that,  nor  the 
church  either.  You  can  get  a  divorce  if  you're  set  on 
it,  Selma.  But  we're  husband  and  wife  yet." 

"  Only  the  husk  of  our  marriage  is  left.  The  spirit 
is  dead,"  she  said  sententiously.  "  I  am  going  away. 
I  cannot  pass  another  night  in  this  house.  If  you  will 
not  take  this  ring,  I  shall  leave  it  here." 

Babcock  turned  to  hide  the  tears  which  blinded  his 
eyes.  Selma  regarded  him  a  moment  gravely,  then  she 
laid  her  wedding-ring  on  the  table  and  went  from  the 
room. 

She  put  her  immediate  belongings  into  a  bag  and  left 
the  house.  She  had  decided  to  go  to  Mrs.  Earle's  lodg- 
ings where  she  would  be  certain  to  find  shelter  and 
sympathy.  Were  she  to  go  to  her  aunt's  she  would  be 
exposed  to  importunity  on  her  husband's  behalf  from 
Mrs.  Farley,  who  was  partial  to  Lewis.  Her  mind  was 
entirely  made  up  that  there  could  be  no  question  of 
reconciliation.  Her  duty  was  plain  ;  and  she  would  be 
doing  herself  an  injustice  were  she  to  continue  to  live 
with  one  so  weak  and  regardless  of  the  honor  which  she 
had  a  right  to  demand  of  the  man  to  whom  she  had 
given  her  society  and  her  body.  His  gross  conduct  had 
81 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

entitled  her  to  her  liberty,  and  to  neglect  to  seize  it 
would  be  to  condemn  herself  to  continuous  unhappi- 
ness,  for  this  overt  act  of  his  was  merely  a  definite  proof 
of  the  lack  of  sympathy  between  them,  of  which  she 
had  for  some  time  been  well  aware  at  heart.  As  she 
walked  along  the  street  she  was  conscious  that  it  was  a 
relief  to  her  to  be  sloughing  off  the  garment  of  an  un- 
congenial relationship  and  to  be  starting  life  afresh. 
There  was  nothing  in  her  immediate  surroundings  from 
which  she  was  not  glad  to  escape.  Their  house  was  full 
of  blemishes  from  the  stand-point  of  her  later  knowledge, 
and  she  yearned  to  dissociate  herself,  once  and  for  all, 
from  the  trammels  of  her  pitiful  mistake.  She  barely 
entertained  the  thought  that  she  was  without  means. 
She  would  have  to  support  herself,  of  course,  but  it 
never  occurred  to  her  to  doubt  her  ability  to  do  so,  and 
the  necessity  added  a  zest  to  her  decision.  It  would  be 
plain  sailing,  for  Mrs.  Earle  had  more  than  once  invited 
her  to  send  copy  to  the  Benham  Sentinel,  and  there  was 
no  form  of  occupation  which  would  be  more  to  her 
liking  than  newspaper  work.  It  was  almost  with  the 
mien  of  a  prisoner  escaped  from  jail  that  she  walked  in 
upon  her  friend  and  said  : 

"I  have  left  my  husband.  He  has  been  unfaithful 
to  me." 

In  Mrs.  Earle,  conventional  feminine  instincts  were 
apt,  before  she  had  time  to  think,  to  get  the  upper 
hand  of  her  set  theories.  "  You,  poor,  poor  child/'  she 
cried  extending  her  arms. 

Selma  had  not  intended  to  weep.  Still  the  opportu- 
nity was  convenient,  and  her  nerves  were  on  edge.  She 
found  herself  sobbing  with  her  head  on  Mrs.  EarleV 
bosom,  and  telling  her  sad  story. 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"  He  was  never  good  enough  for  you.  I  have  always 
said  so,"  Mrs.  Earle  murmured  stroking  her  hair. 

"I  ought  to  have  known  from  the  first  that  it  was 
impossible  for  us  to  be  happy.  Why  did  I  ever  marry 
him  ?  He  said  he  loved  me,  and  I  let  myself  be  badgered 
into  it,"  Selma  answered  through  her  tears.  "  Well, 
it's  all  over  now,"  she  added,  sitting  up  and  drying  her 
eyes.  "  He  has  given  me  back  my  liberty.  I  am  a 
free  woman." 

"  Yes,  dear,  if  you  are  perfectly  sure  of  yourself, 
there  is  only  one  course  to  pursue.  Only  you  should 
consider  the  matter  solemnly.  Perhaps  in  a  few 
days,  after  he  has  apologized  and  shown  proper  con- 
trition, you  might  feel  willing  to  give  him  another 
chance." 

Selma  was  unprepared  for  Mrs.  Earle's  sentimental- 
ity. "  Surely,"  she  exclaimed  with  tragic  earnestness, 
"you  wouldn't  have  me  live  with  him  after  what 
occurred?  Contrition  ?  He  said  everything  he  could 
think  of  to  get  me  to  stay,  but  I  made  my  decision  then 
and  there." 

Mrs.  Earle  put  her  own  handkerchief  to  her  eyes. 
"  Women  have  forgiven  such  things  ;  but  I  respect  you 
all  the  more  for  not  being  weak.  I  know  how  you  feel. 
It  is  hard  to  do,  but  if  I  had  it  to  do  over  again,  I 
would  act  just  the  same — just  the  same.  It's  a  serious 
responsibility  to  encourage  any  one  to  desert  a  home,  but 
under  the  circumstances  I  would  not  live  with  him 
another  minute,  my  child — not  another  minute." 
Thereupon  Mrs.  Earle  protruded  her  bosom  to  celebrate 
the  triumph  of  justice  in  her  own  mental  processes  over 
conventional  aud  maudlin  scruples.  "You  will  apply 
for  a  divorce,  I  suppose  ?  " 

83 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"I  have  not  considered  that.  All  I  care  for  is  never 
to  see  him  again." 

"  Oh  yes,  you  must  get  a  divorce.  It  is  ranch  better, 
you  know.  In  my  case  I  couldn't,  for  he  did  nothing 
public.  A  divorce  settles  matters,  and  puts  you  back 
where  you  were  before.  You  might  wish  some  day  to 
marry  again." 

"  I  have  had  enough  of  marriage." 

"It  isn't  any  harm  to  be  a  free  woman — free  in  the 
eye  of  the  law  as  well  as  of  conscience.  I  know  an  excel- 
lent lawyer — a  Mr.  Lyons,  a  sympathetic  and  able  man. 
Besides  your  husband  is  bound  to  support  you.  You 
must  get  alimony." 

"  I  wouldn't  touch  a  dollar  of  his  money,"  Selma 
answered  with  scorn.  "  I  intend  to  support  myself.  I 
shall  write — work." 

"  Of  course  you  will,  dear  ;  and  it  will  be  a  boon  and 
a  blessing  to  me  to  have  you  in  our  ranks— one  of  the 
new  army  of  self-supporting,  self-respecting  women. 
I  suppose  you  are  right.  I  have  never  had  a  sixpence. 
But  your  husband  deserves  to  be  punished.  Perhaps  it 
is  punishment  enough  to  lose  you." 

"  He  will  get  over  that.  It  is  enough  for  me,"  she 
exclaimed,  ardently,  after  a  dreamy  pause,  "that  I  am 
separated  from  him  forever — that  I  am  free — free — 
free." 

A  night's  sleep  served  to  intensify  Selma's  determina- 
tion, and  she  awoke  clearly  of  the  opinion  that  a 
divorce  was  desirable.  Why  remain  fettered  by  a  bare 
legal  tie  to  one  who  was  a  husband  only  in  name  ?  Ac- 
cordingly, in  company  with  Mrs.  Earle,  she  visited  the 
office  of  James  0.  Lyons,  and  took  the  initiatory  steps 
to  dissolve  the  marriage. 

84 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

Mr.  Lyons  was  a  large,  full-bodied  man  of  thirty-five, 
with  a  fat,  cleanly-shaven,  cherubic  countenance,  an 
aspect  of  candor,  and  keen,  solemn  eyes.  His  manner 
was  impressive  and  slightly  pontificial ;  his  voice  reso- 
nant and  engaging.  He  knew  when  to  joke  and  when 
to  be  grave  as  an  owl.  He  wore  in  every-day  life  a  shiny, 
black  frock-coat,  a  standing  collar,  which  yawned  at  the 
throat,  and  a  narrow,  black  tie.  His  general  effect  was 
that  of  a  cross  between  a  parson  and  a  shrewd  Yankee 
— a  happy  suggestion  of  righteous,  plain,  serious- 
mindedness,  protected  against  the  wiles  of  human 
society — and  able  to  protect  others — by  a  canny  intelli- 
gence. For  a  young  man  he  had  already  a  considerable 
clientage.  A  certain  class  of  people,  notably  the  hard- 
headed,  God-fearing,  felt  themselves  safe  in  his  hands. 
His  magnetic  yet  grave  manner  of  conducting  busi- 
ness pleased  Benham,  attracting  also  both  the  dis- 
tressed and  the  bilious  portions  of  the  community,  and 
the  farmers  from  the  surrounding  country.  As  Mrs. 
Earle  informed  Selma,  he  was  in  sympathy  with  all 
progressive  and  stimulating  ideas,  and  he  already 
figured  in  the  newspapers  politically,  and  before  the 
courts  as  a  friend  of  the  masses,  and  a  fluent  advocate 
of  social  reforms.  His  method  of  handling  Selma's 
case  was  smooth.  To  begin  with,  he  was  sympathetic 
within  proper  limits,  giving  her  tacitly  to  understand 
that,  though  as  a  man  and  brother,  he  deplored  the 
necessity  of  extreme  measures,  he  recognized  that  she 
had  made  up  her  mind,  and  that  compromise  was  out  of 
the  question.  To  put  it  concisely,  his  manner  was 
grieved,  but  practical.  He  told  her  that  he  would  rep- 
resent to  Babcock  the  futility  of  contesting  a  cause, 
which,  on  the  evidence,  must  be  hopeless,  and  that,  in 
85 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

all  probability,  the  matter  could  be  disposed  of  easily 
and  without  publicity.  He  seemed  to  Selma  a  very 
sensible  and  capable  man,  and  it  was  agreeable  to  her  to 
feel  that  he  appreciated  that,  though  divorce  in  the  ab- 
stract was  deplorable,  her  experience  justified  and  called 
for  the  protection  of  the  law. 

In  the  meantime  Babcock  was  very  unhappy,  and  was 
casting  about  for  a  method  to  induce  his  wife  to  return. 
He  wrote  to  her  a  pitiful  letter,  setting  forth  once  more 
the  sorry  facts  in  the  best  light  which  he  could  bring  to 
bear  on  them,  and  implored  her  forgiveness.  He  applied 
to  her  aunt,  Mrs.  Farley,  and  got  her  to  supplement  his 
plea  with  her  good-natured  intervention.  "  There  are 
lots  of  men  like  that,"  she  confided  to  Selma,  "and 
he's  a  kind,  devoted  creature."  When  this  failed,  he 
sought  Rev.  Mr.  Glynn  as  a  last  resort,  and,  after  he 
had  listened  to  a  stern  and  fervid  rating  from  the  clergy- 
man on  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  he  found  his  pastor  on  his 
side.  Mr.  Glynn  was  opposed  to  divorce  on  general 
ecclesiastical  principles ;  moreover,  he  had  been  edu- 
cated under  the  law  of  England,  by  which  a  woman  can- 
not obtain  a  divorce  from  her  husband  for  the  cause  of 
adultery  unless  it  be  coupled  with  cruelty — a  clever  dis- 
tinction between  the  sexes,  which  was  doubtless  in- 
tended as  a  cloak  for  occasional  lapses  on  the  part  of 
man.  It  was  plain  to  him,  as  a  Christian  and  as  a 
hearty  soul,  that  there  had  been  an  untoward  accident — a 
bestial  fault,  a  soul-debasing  carnal  sin,  but  still  an  acci- 
dent, and  hence  to  be  forgiven  by  God  and  woman.  It 
was  his  duty  to  interfere  ;  and  so,  having  disciplined 
the  husband,  he  essayed  the  more  delicate  matter  of  pro- 
pitiating the  wife.  And  he  essayed  it  without  a  thought 
of  failure. 

86 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"  I'm  afraid  she's  determined  to  leave  me,  and  that 
there's  not  much  hope/'  said  Babcock,  despondently,  as 
he  gripped  the  clergyman's  hand  in  token  of  his  grati- 
tude. 

"  Nonsense,  my  man,"  asserted  Mr.  Glynn  briskly. 
"All  she  needs  is  an  exhortation  from  me,  and  she  will 
take  you  back." 

Selma  was  opposed  to  divorce  in  theory.  That  is, 
she  had  accepted  on  trust  the  traditional  prejudice 
against  it  as  she  had  accepted  Shakespeare  and  Boston. 
But  theory  stood  for  nothing  in  her  regard  before  the 
crying  needs  of  her  own  experience.  She  had  not  the 
least  intention  of  living  with  her  husband  again.  No 
one  could  oblige  her  to  do  that.  In  addition,  the  law 
offered  her  a  formal  escape  from  his  control  and  name. 
Why  not  avail  herself  of  it  ?  She  recollected,  besides, 
that  her  husband's  church  recognized  infidelity  as  a 
lawful  ground  of  release  from  the  so-called  sacrament  of 
marriage.  This  had  come  into  her  mind  as  an  addi- 
tional sanction  to  her  own  decision.  But  it  had  not 
contributed  to  that  decision.  Consequently,  when  she 
was  confronted  in  Mrs.  Earle's  lodgings  by  the  errand 
of  Mr.  Glynn,  she  felt  that  his  coming  was  superfluous. 
Still,  she  was  glad  of  the  opportunity  to  measure  ideas 
with  him  in  a  thorough  interview  free  from  interrup- 
tion. 

Mr.  Glynn's  confidence  was  based  on  his  intention  to 
appeal  to  the  ever  womanly  quality  of  pity.  He  ex- 
pected to  encounter  some  resistance,  for  indisputably 
here  was  a  woman  whose  sensibilities  had  been  justly 
and  severely  shocked— a  woman  of  finer  tissue  than  her 
husband,  as  he  had  noted  in  other  American  couples. 
She  was  entitled  to  her  day  in  court — to  a  stubborn, 
87 


UNLEAVENED  BBEAD 

righteous  respite  of  indignation.  But  he  expected  to 
carry  the  day  in  the  end,  amid  a  rush  of  tears,  with 
which  his  own  might  be  mingled.  He  trusted  to  what 
he  regarded  as  the  innate  reluctance  of  the  wife  to  aban- 
don the  man  she  loved,  and  to  the  leaven  of  feminine 
Christian  charity. 

As  a  conscientious  hater  of  sin,  he  did  not  attempt  to 
minimize  Babcock's  act  or  the  insult  put  upon  her. 
That  done,  he  was  free  to  intercede  fervently  for  him 
and  to  extol  the  virtue  and  the  advisability  of  f  orgiveness. 
This  plea,  however  cogent,  was  narrow,  and  once  stated 
admitted  merely  of  duplication  in  the  same  form.  It 
was  indeed  no  argument,  merely  an  appeal,  and,  in  pro- 
portion as  it  failed  to  move  the  listener,  became  feeble. 
Selma  listened  to  him  with  a  tense  face,  Ler  hands 
clasped  before  her  in  the  guise  of  an  interested  and  self- 
scrutinizing  spirit.  But  she  betrayed  no  sign  of  yield- 
ing, or  symptom  of  doubt.  She  shook  her  head  once  or 
twice  as  he  proceeded,  and,  when  he  paused,  asked  why 
she  should  return  to  a  man  who  had  broken  faith  with 
her ;  asked  it  in  such  a  genuine  tone  of  conviction  that 
Dr.  Glynn  realized  the  weakness  of  his  own  case,  and 
became  slightly  nettled  at  the  same  time. 

"  True,"  he  said,  rather  sternly,  "your  husband  has 
committed  a  hideous,  carnal  sin,  but  he  is  genuinely 
repentant.  Do  you  wish  to  ruin  his  life  forever  ?  " 

"  His  life  ?  "  said  Selma.  "  It  would  ruin  my  life  to 
return  to  him.  I  have  other  plans — plans  which  will 
bring  me  happiness.  I  could  never  be  happy  with 
him." 

The  clergyman  was  baffled.  Other  plans  !  The  words 
offended  him,  and  yet  he  could  not  dispute  her  right  to 
do  as  she  chose.  Still  he  saw  fit  to  murmur  :  "  He  that 
88 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

findeth  his  life  shall  lose  it,  and  he  that  loseth  his  life 
for  my  sake  shall  find  it." 

Selma  flushed.  To  be  accused  of  acting  contrary  to 
Christian  precepts  was  painful  and  surprising  to  her. 
"Mr.  Glynn,"  she  said,  "I  see  you  don't  understand. 
My  husband  and  I  ought  never  to  have  married.  It 
has  all  been  a  dreadful  mistake.  We  have  not  the  same 
tastes  and  interests.  I  am  sorry  for  him,  but  I  can 
never  consent  to  return  to  him.  To  do  so  would  con- 
demn us  both  to  a  life  of  unhappiness.  We  were  not 
intended  for  husband  and  wife,  and  it  is  best — yes,  more 
Christian — for  us  to  separate.  We  American  women  do 
not  feel  justified  in  letting  a  mistake  ruin  our  lives  when 
there  is  a  chance  to  escape." 

Mr.  Glynn  regarded  her  in  silence  for  a  moment.  He 
was  accustomed  to  convince ,  and  he  had  not  succeeded, 
which  to  a  clergyman  is  more  annoying  than  to  most 
men.  Still  what  she  said  made  his  plea  seem  doubtful 
wisdom. 

"  Then  you  do  not  love  your  husband  ?"  he  said. 

"  No,"  said  Selma  quietly,  "  I  do  not  love  him.  It  is 
best  to  be  frank  with  one's  self — with  you,  in  such  a 
matter,  isn't  it  ?  So  you  see  that  what  you  ask  is  out  of 
the  question." 

Mr.  Glynn  rose.  Clearly  his  mission  had  failed,  and 
there  was  nothing  more  to  be  said.  Being  a  just  man, 
he  hesitated  to  pass  an  unkind  judgment  on  this  bright- 
faced,  pensive  woman.  She  was  within  her  moral 
rights,  and  he  must  be  careful  to  keep  within  his.  But 
he  went  away  bewildered  and  discomfited.  Selma  would 
have  liked  to  dismiss  the  subject  and  keep  him 
longer.  She  would  have  been  glad  to  branch  off  on  to 
other  ethical  topics  and  discuss  them.  She  was  satisfied 
89 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

with  the  result  of  the  interview,  for  she  had  vindicated 
her  position  and  spiked  Lewis's  last  gun. 

So,  indeed,  it  proved.  Mr.  Glynn  sent  for  Babcock 
and  told  him  the  naked  truth,  that  his  wife's  love  for 
him  was  dead  and  reconciliation  impossible.  He  prop- 
erly refrained  from  expressing  the  doubt  lurking  in  his 
own  mind  as  to  whether  Selma  had  ever  loved  her  hus- 
band. Thus  convinced  of  the  hopelessness  of  his  pre- 
dicament, Babcock  agreed  to  Mr.  Lyons's  suggestion  not 
to  contest  the  legal  proceedings.  The  lawyer  had  been 
diligent,  and  the  necessary  evidence — the  testimony  of 
the  woman — was  secure.  She  was  ready  to  carry  her 
revenge  to  the  end,  hoping,  perhaps,  that  the  victim  of 
it  would  return  to  her  when  he  had  lost  his  wife.  Ac- 
cordingly, a  few  weeks  later,  Selma  was  granted  a  di- 
vorce nisi  and  the  right  to  resume  her  maiden  name. 
She  had  decided,  however,  to  retain  the  badge  of  mar- 
riage as  a  decorous  social  prefix,  and  to  call  herself  Mrs. 
Selma  White. 


90 


CHAPTER    V1IL 

THE  consciousness  that  she  was  dependent  for  the 
means  of  support  solely  on  her  own  exertions  was  a 
genuine  pleasure  to  Selma,  and  she  applied  herself  with 
confidence  and  enthusiasm  to  the  problem  of  earning 
her  livelihood.  She  had  remained  steadfast  to  her 
decision  to  accept  nothing  from  her  husband  except 
the  legal  costs  of  the  proceedings,  though  Mr.  Lyons 
explained  to  her  that  alimony  was  a  natural  and  moral 
increment  of  divorce.  Still,  after  her  refusal,  he  in- 
formed her  as  a  man  and  a  friend  that  he  respected  and 
admired  the  independence  of  her  action,  which  was  an 
agreeable  tribute.  She  had  fixed  definitely  on  news- 
paper work  as  the  most  inviting  and  congenial  form  of 
occupation.  She  believed  herself  to  be  well  fitted  for 
it.  It  would  afford  her  an  immediate  income,  and  it 
would  give  her  the  opportunity  which  she  craved  for 
giving  public  expression  to  her  ideas  and  fixing  attention 
on  herself.  There  was  room  for  more  than  one  Mrs. 
Earle  in  Benham,  for  Benham  was  growing  and  wide- 
awake and  on  the  alert  for  originality  of  any  kind — 
especially  in  the  way  of  reportorial  and  journalistic 
cleverness.  Selma  had  no  intention  of  becoming  a 
second  Mrs.  Earle.  That  is,  she  promised  herself  to 
follow,  but  not  to  follow  blindly  ;  to  imitate  judiciously, 
but  to  improve  on  a  gradually  diverging  line  of  progress. 
This  was  mere  generalization  as  yet.  It  was  an  agree- 
91 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

able  seething  brain  consciousness  for  future  develop- 
ment. For  the  moment,  however,  she  counted  on  Mrs. 
Earle  to  obtain  for  her  a  start  by  personal  influence  at 
the  office  of  the  Benham  Sentinel.  This  was  provided 
forthwith  in  the  form  of  an  invitation  to  prepare  a 
weekly  column  under  the  caption  of  "  What  Women 
Wear  ; "  a  summary  of  passing  usages  in  clothes.  The 
woman  reporter  in  charge  of  it  had  just  died.  Selma's 
first  impulse  was  to  decline  the  work  as  unworthy  of 
her  abilities,  yet  she  was  in  immediate  need  of  employ- 
ment to  avoid  running  in  debt  and  she  was  assured  by 
Mrs.  Earle  that  she  would  be  very  foolish  to  reject  such 
an  offer.  Reflection  caused  her  to  think  more  highly 
of  the  work  itself.  It  would  afford  her  a  chance  to 
explain  to  the  women  of  Benham,  and  indirectly  to  the 
country  at  large,  that  taste  in  dress  was  not  necessarily 
inconsistent  with  virtue  and  serious  intentions — a  truth 
of  which  she  herself  had  become  possessed  since  her 
marriage  and  which  it  seemed  to  her  might  be  utilized 
delightfully  in  her  department.  She  would  endeavor 
to  treat  dress  from  the  standpoint  of  ethical  responsi- 
bility to  society,  and  to  show  that  both  extravagance  and 
dowdy  homeliness  were  to  be  avoided.  Clothes  in  them- 
selves had  grown  to  be  a  satisfaction  to  her,  and  any 
association  of  vanity  would  be  eliminated  by  the  intro- 
duction of  a  serious  artistic  purpose  into  a  weekly 
commentary  concerning  them.  Accordingly  she  ac- 
cepted the  position  and  entered  upon  its  duties  with 
grate  zeal. 

For  each  of  these  contributions  Selma  was  to  receive 

eight  dollars — four  hundred  a  year,  which  she  hoped 

to  expand  to  a  thousand  by  creative  literary  production 

— preferably  essays  and  poetry.     She  hired  a  room  in 

92 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

the  same  neighborhood  as  Mrs.  Earle,  in  the  boarding- 
house  district  appurtenant  to  Central  Avenue — that  is 
to  say,  on  the  ragged  edge  of  Benham's  social  artery, 
and  set  up  her  new  household  gods.  The  interest  of 
preparing  the  first  paper  absorbed  her  to  the  exclusion 
of  everything  else.  She  visited  all  the  dress-making  and 
dry -goods  establishments  in  town,  examined,  at  a  hint 
from  Mrs.  Earle,  the  fashion  departments  of  the  New 
York  papers,  and  then,  pen  in  hand,  gave  herself  up  to 
her  subject.  The  result  seemed  to  her  a  happy  blend- 
ing of  timely  philosophy  and  suggestions  as  to  toilette, 
and  she  took  it  in  person  to  the  editor.  He  saw  fit  to 
read  it  on  the  spot.  His  brow  wrinkled  at  first  and  he 
looked  dubious.  He  re-read  it  and  said  with  some  gusto, 
"It's  a  novelty,  but  I  guess  they'll  like  it.  Our 
women  readers  have  been  used  to  fashion  notes  which 
are  crisp  and  to  the  point,  and  the  big  houses  expect 
to  have  attention  called  to  the  goods  they  wish  to  sell. 
If  you'll  run  over  this  again  and  set  your  cold  facts  in 
little  paragraphs  by  themselves  every  now  and  then,  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  the  rest  were  a  sort  of  lecture 
course  which  will  catch  them.  It's  a  good  idea.  Next 
time  you  could  work  in  a  pathetic  story — some  refer- 
ences to  a  dead  baby — verses — anecdotes — a  little  va- 
;iety.  You  perceive  the  idea  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Selma,  appropriately  sober  at  the 
allusion  yet  ecstatic.  "That's  just  what  I  should  like 
to  do.  It  would  give  me  more  scope.  I  wish  my 
articles  to  be  of  real  use — to  help  people  to  live  better, 
and  to  dress  better." 

"  That's  right,  that's  right ;  and  if  they  make  the 
paper  sell,  we'll  know  that  folks  like  them,"  responded 
the  editor  with  Delphic  urbanity. 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

The  first  article  was  a  success.  That  is,  Selma's  method 
was  not  interfered  with,  and  she  had  the  satisfaction  of 
reading  in  the  Sentinel  during  the  week  an  item  calling 
gratified  attention  to  the  change  in  its  "  What  Women 
Wear "  column,  and  indicating  that  it  would  con- 
tain new  features  from  week  to  week.  It  gave  her 
a  pleasant  thrill  to  see  her  name,  "  Selma  White/' 
signed  at  the  end  of  the  printed  column,  and  she  set  to 
work  eagerly  to  carry  out  the  editor's  suggestions.  At 
the  same  time  she  tried  her  hand  at  a  short  story — the 
story  of  an  American  girl  who  went  to  Paris  to  study 
art,  refused  to  alter  her  mode  of  life  to  suit  foreign  ideas 
of  female  propriety,  displayed  exceptional  talent  as  an 
artist,  and  finally  married  a  fine-spirited  young  Ameri- 
can, to  the  utter  discomfiture  of  a  French  member  of 
the  nobility,  who  had  begun  by  insulting  her  and  ended 
with  making  her  an  offer  of  marriage.  This  she  sent  to 
the  Eagle,  the  other  Benham  newspaper,  for  its  Sunday 
edition. 

It  took  her  a  month  to  compose  this  story,  and  after 
a  week  she  received  it  back  with  a  memorandum  to  the 
effect  that  it  was  one-half  too  long,  but  intimating  that 
in  a  revised  form  it  would  be  acceptable.  This  was  a 
little  depressing,  especially  as  it  arrived  at  a  time  when 
the  novelty  of  her  occupation  had  worn  off  and  she  was 
realizing  the  limitations  of  her  present  life.  She  had  be- 
gun to  miss  the  advantages  of  a  free  purse  and  the  im- 
portance of  a  domestic  establishment.  She  possessed  her 
liberty,  and  was  fulfilling  her  mission  as  a  social  force, 
but  her  life  had  been  deprived  of  some  of  its  savor,  and, 
though  she  was  thankful  to  be  rid  of  Babcock,  she  felt 
the  lack  of  an  element  of  personal  devotion  to  herself, 
an  element  which  was  not  to  be  supplied  by  mere  ad- 
94 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

miration  on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Earle  and  the  other  mem- 
bers of  the  Institute.  It  did  not  suit  her  not  to  be  able 
to  gratify  her  growing  taste  in  clothes  and  in  other  lines 
of  expenditure,  and  there  were  moments  when  she  ex- 
perienced the  need  of  being  petted  and  made  much  of 
by  a  man.  She  was  conscious  of  loneliness,  and  in  this 
mood  she  pitied  herself  as  a  victim  of  untoward  cir- 
cumstances, one  who  had  wasted  the  freshness  of  her 
young  life,  and  missed  the  happiness  which  the  American 
wife  is  apt  to  find  waiting  for  her.  Under  the  spell  of 
this  nostalgia  she  wrote  a  poem  entitled  "  The  Bitter 
Sweets  of  Solitude,"  and  disposed  of  it  for  five  dollars 
to  the  Sentinel.  The  price  shocked  her,  for  the  verses 
seemed  flesh  of  her  flesh.  Still,  five  dollars  was  better 
than  nothing,  and  she  discerned  from  the  manner  of 
the  newspaper  editor  that  he  cared  little  whether  she  left 
them  or  not.  It  was  on  that  evening  that  she  received  a 
letter  from  Littleton,  stating  that  he  was  on  the  eve  of 
leaving  New  York  for  Benham.  He  was  coming  to  consult 
concerning  certain  further  interior  decorations  which 
the  committee  had  decided  to  add  to  the  church. 

Selma's  nerves  vibrated  blissfully  as  she  read  the 
news.  For  some  reason,  which  she  had  never  seen  fit 
definitely  to  define,  she  had  chosen  not  to  acquaint 
Littleton  with  the  fact  of  her  divorce.  Their  letters 
had  been  infrequent  during  the  last  six  months,  for  this 
visit  had  been  impending,  having  been  put  off  from 
time  to  time  because  the  committee  had  been  dilatory 
and  he  otherwise  engaged.  Perhaps  her  secret  motive 
had  been  to  surprise  him,  to  let  him  find  himself  con- 
fronted with  an  accomplished  fact,  which  would  obviate 
argument  and  reveal  her  established  in  her  new  career, 
a  happy,  independent  citizen,  without  ties.  At  any  rate 
95 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

she  smiled  now  at  the  address  on  the  envelope— Mrs. 
Lewis  Babcock.  Obviously  he  was  still  in  the  dark  ag 
to  the  truth,  and  it  would  be  her  privilege  to  enlighten 
him.  She  began  to  wonder  what  would  be  the  upshot 
of  his  coming,  and  tears  came  to  her  eyes,  tears  of  self- 
congratulation  that  the  narrow  tenor  of  her  daily  life 
was  to  be  irradiated  by  a  sympathetic  spirit. 

When  Littleton  duly  appeared  at  the  committee  meet- 
ing on  the  following  day,  Selma  saw  at  a  glance  that  he 
was  unaware  of  what  had  happened.  He  looked  slightly 
puzzled  when  one  of  the  members  addressed  her  as  Mrs. 
White,  but  evidently  he  regarded  this  as  a  slip  of  the 
tongue.  Selma  looked,  as  she  felt,  contented  and  viva- 
cious. She  had  dressed  herself  simply,  but  with  effec- 
tive trigness.  To  those  who  knew  her  experience,  her 
appearance  indicated  courage  and  becoming  self-respect. 
Public  opinion,  even  as  embodied  in  the  church  com- 
mittee, while  deploring  the  necessity,  was  not  disposed 
to  question  the  propriety  of  her  action.  That  is,  all  ex- 
cept Mrs.  Taylor.  In  her,  Selma  thought  she  had  de- 
tected signs  of  coldness,  a  sort  of  suspicious  reservation 
of  judgment,  which  contrasted  itself  unpleasantly  with 
the  sympathetic  attitude  of  the  others,  who  were  fain  to 
refer  to  her,  in  not  altogether  muffled  whispers,  as  a 
plucky,  independent,  little  woman.  Hence,  she  was 
glad  that  Mrs.  Taylor  happened  to  be  detained  at  home 
by  illness  on  this  afternoon,  and  that,  accordingly,  she 
was  free  to  enjoy  unreservedly  the  dramatic  nature  of 
the  situation.  Her  heart  beat  a  little  faster  as  the  chair- 
man, turning  to  her  to  ask  a  question,  addressed  her  un- 
mistakably as  Mrs.  White.  She  could  not  refrain  from 
casting  half-amused,  half-pathetic  sheep's  eyes  at  Little- 
ton. He  started  visibly,  regarded  her  for  a  moment  in 
96 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

obvious  amazement,  then  flushed  to  the  roots  of  his  hair. 
She  felt  the  blood  rising  to  her  own  cheeks,  and  a  sen- 
sation of  mild  triumph.  The  meeting  was  over  and  the 
members  were  merely  lingering  to  tie  up  the  loose 
threads  of  the  matter  arranged  for.  In  a  few  moments 
Selma  found  herself  with  the  architect  sufficiently  apart 
from  the  others  for  him  to  ask  : 

"  Two  persons  have  addressed  you  this  afternoon  as 
Mrs.  White.  I  do  not  understand." 

She  cast  down  her  eyes,  as  a  woman  will  when  a  ques- 
tion of  modesty  is  involved,  then  she  raised  them  and 
said:  "You  did  not  know,  then,  that  I  had  left  my 
husband  ?" 

"  Left  him  ?" 

"  Yes.  I  have  obtained  a  divorce.  He  was  unfaith- 
ful to  me." 

"  I  see" — said  Littleton  with  a  sort  of  gasp — "  I  see 
I  did  not  know.  You  never  wrote  to  me." 

"  I  did  not  feel  like  writing  to  any  body.  There  was 
nothing  to  be  done  but  that." 

Littlet  regarded  her  with  a  perturbed,  restless 
air. 

"  Thau  yon  live  no  longer  at  25  Onslow  Avenue  ?" 

"  Oh  no.  I  left  there  more  than  six  months  ago.  I 
live  in  lodgings.  I  am  supporting  myself  by  literary 
work.  I  am  Mrs.  Selma  White  now,  and  my  divorce 
has  been  absolute  more  than  a  month." 

She  spoke  gravely  and  quietly,  with  less  than  her 
usual  assurance,  for  she  felt  the  spell  of  his  keen,  eager 
scrutiny  and  was  not  averse  to  yield  at  the  moment  to 
the  propensity  of  her  sex.  She  wondered  what  he  wai 
thinking  about.  Did  he  blame  her  ?  Did  he  syrup* 
thize  with  her  ? 

97 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"  Where  are  you  going  when  you  leave  here  ?"  he 
asked. 

"Home — to  my  new  home.  Will  you  walk  along 
with  me  ?" 

"  That  is  what  I  should  like.  I  am  astonished  by 
what  you  have  told  me,  and  am  anxious  to  hear  more 
about  it,  if  to  speak  of  it  would  not  wound  you.  Di- 
vorced !  How  you  must  have  suffered  !  And  I  did  not 
have  the  chance  to  offer  you  my  help — my  sympathy." 

"  Yes,  I  have  suffered.  But  that  is  all  over  now.  I 
am  a  free  woman.  I  am  beginning  my  life  over  again." 

It  was  a  beautiful  afternoon,  and  by  mutual  consent, 
which  neither  put  into  words,  they  diverged  from  the 
exact  route  to  Selma's  lodging  house  and  turned  their 
steps  to  the  open  country  beyond  the  city  limits — the 
picturesque  dell  which  has  since  become  the  site  of  Ben- 
ham's  public  park.  There  they  seated  themselves  where 
they  would  not  be  interrupted.  Selma  told  him  on  the 
way  the  few  vital  facts  in  her  painful  story,  to  which 
he  listened  in  a  tense  silence,  broken  chiefly  by  an  oc- 
casional ejaculation  expressive  of  his  contempt  for  the 
man  who  had  brought  such  unhappiness  upon  her. 
She  let  him  understand,  too,  that  her  married  life,  from 
the  first,  had  been  far  less  happy  than  he  had  imagined — 
a  wretched  makeshift  for  the  true  relation  of  husband 
and  wife.  She  spoke  of  her  future  buoyantly,  yet  with 
a  touch  of  sadness,  as  though  to  indicate  that  she  was 
aware  that  the  triumphs  of  intelligence  and  individual- 
ity could  not  entirely  be  a  substitute  for  a  happy  home. 

"  And  what  do  you  expect  to  do  ?"  he  inquired  in  a 
bewildered  fashion,  as  though  her  delineation  of  her 
hopes  had  been  lost  on  him. 

"  Do  ?    Support  myself  by  my  own  exertions,  aa  I 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

uave  told  you.  By  writing  I  expect.  I  am  doing  very 
well v  already.  Do  you  question  my  ability  to  con- 
tinue ?" 

"  Oh,  no  ;  not  that.     Only " 

"  Only  what  ?  Surely  you  are  not  one  of  the  men 
who  grudge  women  the  chance  to  prove  what  is  in 
them — who  would  treat  us  like  china  dolls  and  circum- 
scribe us  by  conventions  ?  I  know  you  are  not,  because 
I  have  heard  you  inveigh  against  that  very  sort  of  nar- 
row mindedness.  Only  what  ?  " 

"  I  can't  make  up  my  mind  to  it.  And  I  suppose  the 
reason  is  that  it  means  so  much  to  me — that  you  mean 
so  much  to  me.  What  is  the  use  of  my  dodging  the 
truth,  Selma — seeking  to  conceal  it  because  such  a  short 
time  has  elapsed  since  you  ceased  to  be  a  wife  ?  For- 
give me  if  I  hurt  yon,  if  it  seem  indelicate  to  speak 
of  love  at  the  very  moment  when  you  are  happy  in  your 
liberty.  I  can't  help  it ;  it's  my  nature  to  speak  openly. 
And  there's  no  bar  now.  The  fact  that  you  are  free 
makes  clear  to  me  what  I  have  not  dared  to  countenance 
before,  that  you  are  the  one  woman  in  the  world  for 
me — the  woman  I  have  dreamed  of — and  longed  to 
meet — the  woman  whose  influence  has  blessed  me 
already,  and  without  whom  I  shall  lack  the  greatest 
happiness  which  life  can  give.  Selma,  I  love  you — I 
adore  you." 

Selma  listened  with  greedy  ears,  which  she  could 
scarcely  believe.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  was  in 
dream-land,  so  unexpected,  yet  entrancing,  was  his 
avowal.  She  had  been  vaguely  aware  that  he  admired 
her  more  than  he  had  allowed  himself  to  disclose, 
and  conscious,  too,  that  his  presence  was  agreeable  to 
her ;  but  in  an  instant  now  she  recognized  that  this  was 
99 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

love— the  love  she  had  sought,  the  love  she  had  yearned 
to  inspire  and  to  feel.  Compared  with  it,  Babcock's 
clumsy  ecstasy  and  her  own  sufferance  of  it  had  been  a 
sham  and  a  delusion.  Of  so  much  she  was  conscious  in 
a  twinkling,  and  yet  what  she  deemed  proper  self- 
respect  restrained  her  from  casting  herself  into  his 
arms.  It  was,  indeed,  soon,  and  she  had  been  happy  in 
her  liberty.  At  least,  she  had  supposed  herself  so  ;  and 
she  owed  it  to  her  own  plans  and  hopes  not  to  act 
hastily,  though  she  knew  what  she  intended  to  do.  She 
had  been  lonely,  yes  starving,  for  lack  o-  true  compan- 
ionship, and  here  was  the  soul  which  would  be  a  true 
mate  to  hers. 

They  were  sitting  on  a  grassy  bank.  He  was  bending 
toward  her  with  clasped  .hands,  a  picture  of  fervor.  She 
could  see  him  out  of  ths  corner  of  her  glance,  though 
she  looked  into  space  with  her  gaze  of  seraphic  worry. 
Yet  her  lips  were  ready  to  lend  themselves  to  a  smile  of 
blissful  satisfaction  and  her  eyes  to  fill  with  the  melting 
mood  of  the  thought  that  at  last  happiness  had  come  to 
her. 

The  silence  was  very  brief,  but  Littleton,  as  would 
have  seemed  fitting  to  her,  feared  lest  she  were  shocked. 

"  I  distress  you,"  he  said.  "  Forgive  me.  Listen — 
will  you  Hften  ?  "  Sel ma  was  glad  to  listen.  The  words 
of  love,  each  love  as  this,  were  delicious,  and  she  felt 
she  owed  it  to  herself  not  to  be  won  too  easily.  "  I  am 
listening/'  she  answered  softly  with  the  voice  of  one 
face  to  face  with  an  array  of  doubts. 

•'*  Before  I  met  you,  Selma,  woman  was  but  a  name  to 
me.  My  life  brought  me  little  into  contact  with  them, 
except  my  dear  sister,  and  I  had  no  temptation  to  re- 
gret that  T  could  not  support  a  wife.  Yet  I  dreamed. 
IOC 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

of  woman  and  of  love  and  of  a  joy  which  might  some 
day  come  to  me  if  I  could  meet  one  who  fulfilled  my 
ideal  of  what  a  true  woman  should  be.  So  I  dreamed 
until  I  met  you.  The  first  time  I  saw  you,  Selma,  I 
knew  in  my  heart  that  you  were  a  woman  whom  I  could 
love.  Perhaps  I  should  have  recognized  more  clearly  as 
time  went  on  that  you  were  more  to  me  even  then  than 
I  had  a  right  to  allow ;  yet  I  call  heaven  to  witness  that 
I  did  not,  by  word  or  sign,  do  a  wrong  to  him  who  has 
done  such  a  cruel  wrong  to  you." 

"Never  by  word  or  sign,"  echoed  Selma  solemnly. 
The  bare  suggestion  that  Babcock  had  cause  to  com- 
plain of  either  of  them  seemed  to  her  preposterous. 
Yet  she  was  saying  to  herself  that  it  was  easy  to  per- 
ceive that  he  had  loved  her  from  the  first. 

"And  since  I  love  you  with  all  my  soul  must  I — 
should  I  in  justice  to  myself — to  my  own  hopes  of  happi- 
ness, refrain  from  speaking  merely  because  you  have  so 
recently  been  divorced  ?  I  must  speak — I  am  speaking. 
It  is  too  soon,  I  dare  say,  for  you  to  be  willing  to  think 
of  marriage  again — but  I  offer  you  the  love  and  protec- 
tion of  a  husband.  My  means  are  small,  but  I  am  able 
now  to  support  a  wife  in  decent  comfort.  Selma,  give 
me  some  hope.  Tell  me,  that  in  time  you  may  be 
willing  to  trust  yourself  to  my  love.  You  wish  to  work 
— to  distinguish  yourself.  Would  I  be  a  hindrance  to 
that  ?  Indeed,  you  must  know  that  I  would  do  every 
thing  in  my  power  to  promote  your  desire  to  be  of 
service  to  the  world." 

The  time  for  her  smile  and  her  tears  had  come.     He 

had  argued  his  case  and  her  own,  and  it  was  clear  to  her 

mind  that  delay  would  be  futile.     Since  happiness  was 

at  hand,  why  not  grasp  it  ?    As  for  her  work,  he  need 

101 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

not  interfere  with  that.  And,  after  all,  now  that  she 
had  tried  it,  was  she  so  sure  that  newspaper  work — 
hack  work,  such  as  she  was  pursuing,  was  what  she 
wished  ?  As  a  wife,  re-established  in  the  security  of  a 
home,  she  could  pick  and  choose  her  method  of  expres- 
sion. Perhaps,  indeed,  it  would  not  be  writing,  except 
occasionally.  Was  not  New  York  a  wide,  fruitful  field 
for  a  reforming  social  influence  ?  She  saw  herself  in  her 
mind's  eye  a  leader  of  movements  and  of  progress.  And 
that  with  a  man  she  loved — yes,  adored  even  as  he 
adored  her. 

So  she  turned  to  Littleton  with  her  smile  and  in 
tears — the  image  of  bewitching  but  pathetic  self-justifi- 
cation and  surrender.  Her  mind  was  made  up  ;  hence 
why  procrastinate  and  coyly  postpone  the  desirable,  and 
the  inevitable  ?  That  was  what  she  had  the  shrewdness 
to  formulate  in  the  ecstasy  of  her  transport;  and  so 
eloquent  was  the  mute  revelation  of  her  love  that  Little- 
ton, diffident  reverencer  of  the  modesty  of  woman  as  he 
was,  without  a  word  from  her  clasped  her  to  his  breast, 
a  victor  in  a  breath.  As,  regardless  of  the  possible  inva- 
sion of  interlopers,  he  took  her  in  his  embrace,  she  felt 
with  satisfaction  once  more  the  grasp  of  masculine  arms. 
She  let  her  head  fall  on  his  shoulder  in  delighted  con- 
tentment. While  he  murmured  in  succession  inartic- 
ulate terms  of  endearment,  she  revelled  in  the  thrill  of 
her  nerves  and  approved  her  own  sagacious  and  com- 
mendable behavior. 

"  Dearest,"  she  whispered,  "  you  are  right.  We  are 
right.  Since  we  love  each  other,  why  should  we  not  say 
so?  I  love  you — I  love  you.  The  ugly  hateful  past 
shall  not  keep  us  apart  longer.  You  say  you  loved  me 
from  the  first ;  BO  did  I  love  you,  though  I  did  not  know 
102 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

it  then.  "We  were  meant  for  each  other — God  meant  us 
— did  he  not  ?  It  is  right,  and  we  shall  be  so  happy, 
Wilbur." 

"  Yes,  Selma."  Words  seemed  to  him  an  inadequate 
means  for  expressing  his  emotions.  He  pressed  his  lips 
upon  hers  with  the  adoring  respect  of  a  worshipper 
touching  his  god,  yet  with  the  energy  of  a  man.  She 
sighed  and  compared  him  in  her  thought  with  Babcock. 
How  gentle  this  new  lover  !  How  refined  and  sensitive 
and  appreciative  !  How  intelligent  and  gentlemanly  ! 

"  If  I  had  my  wish,  darling,"  he  said,  "  we  should  be 
married  to-night  and  I  would  carry  you  away  from  here 
forever." 

She  remembered  that  Babcock  had  uttered  the  same 
wish  on  the  occasion  when  he  had  offered  himself.  To 
grant  it  then  had  been  out  of  the  question.  To  do  so 
now  would  be  convenient — a  prompt  and  satisfactory 
blotting  out  of  her  past  and  present  life — a  happy 
method  of  solving  many  minor  problems  of  ways  and 
means  connected  with  waiting  to  be  married.  Besides 
it  would  be  romantic,  and  a  delicious,  fitting  crowning 
of  her  present  blissful  mood. 

He  mistook  her  silence  for  womanly  scruples,  and  he 
recounted  with  a  little  laugh  the  predicament  in  which 
he  should  find  himself  on  his  own  account  were  they  to 
be  so  precipitate.  "  What  would  my  sister  think  if  she 
were  to  get  a  telegram — '  Married  to-night.  Expect  us 
to-morrow  ? '  She  would  think  I  had  lost  my  senses. 
So  I  have,  darling  ;  and  you  are  the  cause.  She  knows 
about  you.  I  have  talked  to  her  about  you." 

"  But  she  thinks  I  am  Mrs.  Babcock/' 

"  Oh  yes.  Ha  !  ha  !  It  would  never  do  to  state  to 
whom  I  was  married,  unless  I  sent  a  telegram  as  long  as 
103 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

my  arm.  Dear  Pauline !  She  will  be  radiant.  It  is 
all  arranged  that  she  is  to  stay  where  she  is  in  the  old 
quarters,  and  I  am  to  take  you  to  a  new  house.  We've 
decided  on  that,  time  and  again,  when  we've  chanced  to 
talk  of  what  might  happen — of  '  the  fair,  the  chaste  and 
unexpressive  she' — my  she.  Dearest,  I  wondered  if  I 
should  ever  find  her.  Pauline  has  always  said  that  she 
would  never  run  the  risk  of  spoiling  everything  by  liv- 
ing with  us." 

"  It  would  be  very  nice — and  very  simple,"  responded 
Selma,  slowly.  "  You  wouldn't  think  any  the  worse 
of  me,  Wilbur,  if  I  were  to  marry  you  to-night  ? " 

"  The  worse  of  you  ?  It  is  what  I  would  like  of  all 
things.  Whom  does  it  concern  but  us  ?  Why  should 
we  wait  in  order  to  make  a  public  spectacle  of  our- 
selves?" 

"  I  shouldn't  wish  that.  I  should  insist  on  being 
married  very  quietly.  Under  all  the  circumstances 
there  is  really  no  reason — it  seems  to  me  it  would  be 
easier  if  we  were  to  be  married  as  soon  as  possible.  It 
would  avoid  explanations  and  talk,  wouldn't  it  ?  That 
is,  if  you  are  perfectly  sure." 

"  Sure  ?    That  I  love  you  ?    Oh  Selma  I " 

She  shut  her  eyes  under  the  thrill  which  his  kiss  gave 
her.  "  Then  we  will  be  married  whenever  you  wish," 
she  said. 

It  was  already  late  in  the  afternoon,  so  that  the  pros- 
pects  of  obtaining  a  license  did  not  seem  favorable. 
Still  it  happened  that  Littleton  knew  a  clergyman  of 
his  own  faith — Unitarian — in  Benham,  a  college  class- 
mate, whom  he  suggested  as  soon  as  he  understood  that 
Selma  preferred  not  to  be  married  by  Mr.  Glynn.  They 
found  him  at  home,  and  by  diligent  personal  effort  oil 
104 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

his  part  the  necessary  legal  forms  were  complied  with 
and  they  were  made  husband  and  wife  three  hours  before 
the  departure  of  the  evening  train  for  New  York, 
After  the  ceremony  they  stepped  buoyantly,  arm  in  arm 
in  the  dusk,  along  the  street  to  send  the  telegram  to 
Miss  Littleton,  and  to  snatch  a  hasty  meal  before  Selma 
went  to  her  lodgings  to  pack.  There  were  others  in  the 
restaurant,  so  having  discovered  that  they  were  not 
hungry,  they  bought  sandwiches  and  bananas,  and  re- 
sumed their  travels.  The  suddenness  and  surprise  of  it 
all  made  Selma  feel  as  if  on  wings.  It  seemed  to  her  to 
be  of  the  essence  of  new  and  exquisite  romance  to  be 
walking  at  the  side  of  her  fond,  clever  lover  in  the 
democratic  simplicity  of  two  paper  bags  of  provender 
and  an  open,  yet  almost  headlong  marriage.  She  felt 
that  at  last  she  was  yoked  to  a  spirit  who  comprehended 
her  and  who  would  stimulate  instead  of  repress  the  fire 
of  originality  within  her.  She  had  found  love  and  she 
was  happy.  Meanwhile  she  had  decided  to  leave  Ben- 
ham  without  a  word  to  anyone,  even  Mrs.  Earle.  She 
would  write  and  explain  what  had  happened. 


BOOK  II. 
THE  STRUGGLE 

CHAPTER   I. 

LITTLETON  had  not  expected  that  Selma  would  ac- 
cede to  his  request  to  be  married  at  once,  but  he  was 
delighted  at  her  decision.  He  had  uttered  his  wish  in 
sincerity,  for  there  was  really  no  reason  for  waiting, 
and  by  an  immediate  marriage  they  would  escape  the 
tedium  of  an  engagement  during  which  they  could 
hope  to  see  each  other  but  rarely.  He  was  able  to  sup- 
port a  wife  provided  they  were  to  live  simply  and  eco- 
nomically. He  felt  sure  that  Selma  understood  his  cir- 
cumstances and  was  no  less  ready  than  he  to  forego 
luxuries  in  order  that  they  might  be  all  in  all  to  each 
other  spiritually  as  husband  and  wife.  Besides  he  had 
hopes  that  his  clientage  would  continue  to  grow  so  that 
he  would  be  able  to  provide  all  reasonable  comforts  for 
his  new  home.  Consequently  he  drove  up  from  the 
station  in  New  York  with  a  light  heart,  fondly  point- 
ing out  to  his  wife  this  and  that  building  and  other  ob- 
jects of  interest.  He  mistook  her  pensive  silence  for 
diffidence  at  the  idea  of  descending  suddenly  on  an- 
other woman's  home — a  matter  which  in  this  instance 
gave  him  no  concern,  for  he  had  unlimited  confidence 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

in  Pauline's  executive  ability  and  her  tendency  not  to 
get  ruffled.  She  had  been  his  good  angel,  domestically 
speaking,  and,  indeed,  in  every  way,  since  they  had  first 
begun  to  keep  house  together,  and  it  had  rather  amusecj 
him  to  let  fall  such  a  bombshell  as  the  contents  of  his 
telegram  upon  the  regularity  of  her  daily  life. 

"  Don't  be  nervous,  darling, "  he  said  gayly.  "  You 
will  find  Pauline  bubbling  over  with  joy  at  our  coming, 
and  everything  arranged  as  though  we  were  expected 
to  live  there  all  our  lives." 

Selma  looked  at  him  blankly  and  then  remembered. 
She  was  not  feeling  nervous,  and  Pauline  was  not  in 
her  thoughts.  She  had  been  lost  in  her  own  reflections 
— lost  in  the  happy  consciousness  of  the  contrast  be- 
tween her  new  and  her  old  husband,  and  in  the  increas- 
ing satisfaction  that  she  was  actually  in  New  York. 
How  bright  and  busy  the  streets  looked  !  The  throng 
of  eager  passers  and  jostling  vehicles  against  the  back- 
ground of  brilliant  shop-windows  bewildered  and  stim- 
ulated her.  She  was  saying  to  herself  that  here  was  the 
place  where  she  was  suited  to  live,  and  mutely  acknowl- 
edging its  superiority  to  Benham  as  a  centre  of  life. 
This  was  a  rash,  swift  conclusion,  but  Selma  prided 
herself  on  her  capacity  to  arrive  at  wise  judgments  by 
rapid  mental  processes.  So  absorbed  was  she  in  the 
glittering,  stirring  panorama  that  Wilbur's  efforts  at 
enlightenment  were  practically  wasted.  She  was  in  no 
humor  for  details  ;  she  was  glorying  in  the  exalted  im- 
pression which  the  whole  vivid  scene  produced  upon 
her. 

His  remark  caused  her  to  realize  that  they  must  be 
near  their  destination.  She  had  no  misgivings  on  the 
score  of  her  own  reception,  but  she  was  interested  and 
107 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

curious  to  see  Pauline,  this  wonderful  sister  of  whom 
Wilbur  was  so  fond  and  so  proud.  Then  her  husband 
cried,  "  Here  we  are ! "  and  in  another  moment  she 
found  herself  in  the  hearty  embrace  of  a  large,  comely 
woman  who  met  her  at  the  door.  This  of  course  must  be 
Pauline.  Selma  was  just  a  little  shocked  by  the  fervor 
of  the  greeting  ;  for  though  she  delighted  in  rapid  in- 
timacies, unexpected  liberties  with  her  person  were 
contrary  to  her  conceptions  of  propriety.  Still  it  was 
delightful  to  be  welcomed  so  heartily.  She  returned 
the  embrace  warmly  but  with  dignity,  and  allowed  her- 
self to  be  convoyed  into  the  house  arm  in  arm  with  her 
new  relation  who  seemed,  indeed,  to  be  bubbling  over 
with  joy.  It  was  not  until  they  were  in  the  same  room 
that  Selma  could  get  a  good  look  at  her. 

Pauline  Littleton  was  fine  looking  rather  than  pret- 
ty. She  was  tall  and  substantial,  with  an  agreeable 
face,  an  intelligent  brow,  a  firm  yet  sweet  mouth, 
and  steady,  honest  eyes  which  now  sparkled  with  pleas- 
ure. Her  physique  was  very  different  from  her  brother's. 
Selma  noticed  that  she  was  taller  than  herself  and  only 
a  little  shorter  than  Wilbur.  She  had  Wilbur's  smile 
too,  suggesting  a  disposition  to  take  things  humorously ; 
but  her  expression  lacked  the  poetic  cast  which  made 
him  so  attractive  and  congenial  to  herself  and  excused 
the  existence  of  the  lighter  vein.  Selma  did  not  admire 
women  who  were  inclined  to  be  stout.  She  associated 
spareness  of  person  with  high  thinking,  and  regarded 
an  abundance  of  flesh  as  an  indication  of  material 
or  commonplace  aims.  She  reflected  that  Pauline  was 
presumably  business-like  and  a  good  house-keeper,  and, 
very  likely,  an  industrious  teacher  in  her  classes,  but 
she  set  her  down  in  her  mind  as  deficient  in  the  finer 
108 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

sensibilities  of  the  spirit  belonging  to  herself  and  Wil- 
bur. It  was  instinctive  with  Selma  to  form  a  prompt 
estimate  of  every  one  she  met,  and  it  was  a  relief  to  her 
to  come  to  the  agreeable  conclusion  that  there  was 
nothing  in  her  sister-in-law's  appearance  to  make  her 
discontented  with  herself.  This  warmed  her  heart  at 
once  toward  Pauline.  To  be  sure  Pauline  manifested 
the  same  sort  of  social  grace  which  distinguished  Mrs. 
Hallett  Taylor,  but  Selma,  though  she  still  regarded 
this  with  suspicion,  for  the  reason  that  she  had  not  yet 
become  mistress  of  it,  was  secretly  content  to  know  that 
she  had  married  into  a  family  which  possessed  it.  Al- 
together she  was  agreeably  impressed  by  her  scrutiny 
of  her  new  sister,  who,  in  her  opinion,  would  not  be  an 
irritating  rival  either  in  looks  or  character,  and  yet 
who  was  a  pleasing  and  sufficiently  serious-minded  per- 
son— in  short  just  the  sort  of  sister-in-law  which  she 
yearned  to  have. 

Pauline,  on  her  part,  was  duly  fascinated  by  the  deli- 
cate and  inspiring  beauty  of  her  brother's  wife.  She 
understood  at  once  why  Wilbur  had  chosen  her  in  pref- 
erence to  any  one  of  his  own  circle.  Selma  obviously 
symbolized  by  her  grave,  tense,  thin  face  the  serious 
ideals  of  living  and  womanhood,  which  had  been  dear 
to  his  meditation  as  a  youth  and  a  part  of  his  heritage 
from  his  New  England  ancestors.  It  made  her  joyous 
to  feel  that  he  had  found  a  wife  who  would  be  a  constant 
source  of  inspiration  to  him,  for  she  knew  that  Wilbur 
would  not  be  happy  with  any  one  who  fell  short  of 
his  ideal  as  to  what  a  woman  should  be.  She  knew 
her  brother  well,  and  she  understood  how  deeply  in 
earnest  he  was  to  make  the  most  of  his  life,  and  what 
an  exalted  vision  he  entertained  as  to  the  possibilities 
109 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

for  mutual  sympathy  and  help  between  husband  and 
wife. 

Partly  as  a  consequence  of  their  limited  means,  partly 
owing  to  absorption  in  their  respective  studies  and  in- 
terests, the  Littletons,  though  of  gentle  stock,  lived 
simple  lives  according  to  New  York  standards.  They 
were  aware  of  the  growth  of  luxury  resulting  from  the 
accumulation  of  big  fortunes  since  the  war.  As  an 
architect,  Wilbur  saw  larger  and  more  elaborate  public 
and  private  buildings  being  erected  on  every  side.  As  a 
house-keeper  and  a  woman  with  social  interests,  Pauline 
knew  that  the  power  of  money  was  revolutionizing  the 
public  taste  in  the  matter  of  household  expenditure  ; 
that  in  the  details  of  domestic  life  there  was  more  color 
and  more  circumstance,  and  that  people  who  were  well- 
to-do,  and  many  who  were  not,  were  requiring  as  daily 
comforts  all  sorts  of  things  to  which  they  had  been  un- 
accustomed. But  though  they  both  thus  knew  vaguely 
that  the  temper  of  society  had  changed,  and  that  sober 
citizens  and  their  wives,  who,  twenty  years  before, 
would  have  prated  solemnly  against  a  host  of  gay,  en- 
livening or  pretty  customs  as  incompatible  with  Ameri- 
can virtue,  were  now  adopting  these  as  rapidly  as 
money  could  procure  them — the  brother  and  sister  had 
remained  comparatively  unaffected  by  the  consequences 
of  the  transformation  scene.  Certainly  their  home  had. 
It  was  old-fashioned  in  its  garniture  and  its  gentility. 
It  spoke  of  a  day,  not  so  many  years  before,  when  high 
thinking  had  led  to  blinking  where  domestic  decora- 
tion was  concerned,  and  people  had  bought  ugly  wooden 
and  worsted  things  to  live  with  because  only  the  things 
of  the  spirit  seemed  of  real  importance.  Still  time, 
with  it  marvellous  touch,  has  often  the  gift  of  making 
110 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

furniture  and  upholstery,  which  were  hideous  when 
bought,  look  interesting  and  cosey  when  they  have  be- 
come old-fashioned.  In  this  way  Pauline  Wilbur's 
parlor  was  a  delightful  relic  of  a  day  gone  by.  There 
was  scarcely  a  pretty  thing  in  it,  as  Wilbur  himself 
well  knew,  yet,  as  a  whole,  it  had  an  atmosphere — an 
atmosphere  of  simple  unaffected  refinement.  Their 
domestic  belongings  had  come  to  them  from  their  par- 
ents, and  they  had  never  had  the  means  to  replenish 
them.  When,  in  due  time,  they  had  realized  their  ar- 
tistic worthlessness,  they  had  held  to  them  through 
affection,  humorously  conscious  of  the  incongruity  that 
two  such  modern  individuals  as  themselves  should  be 
living  in  a  domestic  museum.  Then,  presto  !  friends 
had  begun  to  congratulate  them  on  the  uniqueness  of 
their  establishment,  and  to  express  affection  for  it.  It 
had  become  a  favorite  resort  for  many  modern  spirits 
— artists,  literary  men,  musicians,  self-supporting  wom- 
en— and  Pauline's  oyster  suppers,  cooked  in  her  grand- 
mother's blazer,  were  still  a  stimulus  to  high  thinking. 
So  matters  stood  when  Selma  entered  it  as  a  bride. 
Her  coming  signified  the  breaking  up  of  the  household 
and  the  establishment.  Pauline  had  thought  that  out 
in  her  clear  brain  over  night  since  receiving  Wilbur's 
telegram.  Wilbur  must  move  into  a  modern  house,  and 
she  into  a  modern  flat.  She  would  keep  the  very  old 
things,  such  as  the  blazer  and  some  andirons  and  a  pair 
of  candlesticks,  for  they  were  ancient  enough  to  be 
really  artistic,  but  the  furniture  of  the  immediate  past, 
her  father  and  mother's  generation,  should  be  sold  at 
auction.  Wilbur  and  she  must,  if  only  for  Selma's 
sake,  become  modern  in  material  matters  as  well  as  in 
their  mental  interests. 

Ill 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Pauline  proceeded  to  unfold  this  at  the  dinner-table 
that  evening.  She  had  heard  in  the  meanwhile  from 
her  brother,  the  story  of  Selma's  divorce  and  the  ex- 
planation of  his  sudden  marriage  ;  and  in  consequence, 
she  felt  the  more  solicitous  that  her  sister-in-law's  new 
venture  should  begin  propitiously.  It  was  agreed  that 
Wilbur  should  make  inquiries  at  once  about  houses 
further  uptown,  and  that  his  present  lease  from  year  to 
year  should  not  be  renewed.  She  said  to  Selma  : 

"  You  have  saved  us  from  becoming  an  old-fashioned 
bachelor  and  maid.  Our  friends  began  to  leave  this 
neighborhood  five  years  ago,  and  there  is  no  one  left. 
We  are  surrounded  by  boarding-houses  and  shops.  We 
were  comfortable,  and  we  were  too  busy  to  care.  But 
it  would  never  do  for  a  young  married  couple  to  begin 
house-keeping  here.  You  must  have  a  brand  new  house 
uptown,  Selma.  You  must  insist  on  that.  Don't  be 
alarmed,  Wilbur.  I  know  it  will  have  to  be  small,  but 
I  noticed  the  other  day  several  blocks  of  new  houses 
going  up  on  the  side  streets  west  of  the  Park,  which 
looked  attractive  and  cheap." 

"  I  will  look  at  them,"  said  Wilbur.  "  Since  you  seem 
determined  not  to  live  with  us,  and  we  are  obliged  to 
move,  we  will  follow  the  procession.  But  Selma  and  I 
could  be  happy  anywhere."  He  turned  from  his  sister 
to  her  as  he  spoke  with  a  proud,  happy  look. 

Selma  said  nothing  to  mar  his  confidence.  She  had 
no  intention  of  living  either  with  Pauline  or  in  their 
present  house,  and  she  felt  that  her  sister-in-law  had 
shown  good  sense  in  recognizing  that  neither  was  pos- 
sible. She  necessarily  had  vague  ideas  as  to  New  York 
houses  and  locations,  but  she  had  seen  enough  in  her 
drive  from  the  station  to  understand  that  it  was  a  won- 
112 


UNLEAVENED  BKEAD 

derful  and  decorative  place.  Although,  her  experience 
of  Benham  had  taught  her  that  some  old  things — such 
as  Mrs.  Hallett  Taylor's  gleanings  from  Europe — were 
desirable,  she  associated  new  things  with  progress — 
especially  American  progress.  Consequently  the  Little- 
ton household  possessions  had  puzzled  her,  for  though 
she  thought  them  ugly,  she  was  resolved  not  to  commit 
herself  too  hastily.  But  now  that  Pauline  had  sounded 
a  note  of  warning,  the  situation  was  clear.  They  had 
suffered  themselves  to  fall  behind  the  times,  and  she 
was  to  be  her  husband's  good  angel  by  helping  him  to 
catch  up  with  them.  And  it  was  evident  that  Pauline 
would  be  her  ally.  Selma  for  the  first  time  asked  herself 
whether  it  might  be  that  Wilbur  was  a  little  visionary. 

Meanwhile  he  was  saying  :  "  Pauline  is  right,  Selma. 
I  had  already  asked  myself  if  it  would  not  be  fairer  to 
you  to  move  uptown  where  we  should  be  in  the  van  and 
in  touch  with  what  is  going  on.  Pauline  is  gently 
hinting  to  you  that  you  must  not  humor  me  as  she  has 
done,  and  let  me  eat  bread  and  milk  out  of  a  bowl  in 
this  old  curiosity  shop,  instead  of  following  in  the  wake 
of  fashion.  She  has  spoiled  me  and  now  she  deserts 
me  at  the  critical  moment  of  my  life.  Selma,  you  shall 
have  the  most  charming  modern  house  in  New  York 
within  my  means.  It  must  be  love  in  a  cottage,  but  the 
cottage  shall  have  the  latest  improvements — hot  and 
cold  water,  tiles,  hygienic  plumbing  and  dados." 

"Bravo  !  "  said  Pauline.  "  He  says  I  have  spoiled 
him,  Selma.  Perhaps  I  have.  It  will  be  your  turn 
now.  You  will  fail  to  convert  him  as  I  have  failed,  and 
the  world  will  be  the  better  for  it.  There  are  too  few 
men  who  think  noble  thoughts  and  practice  them,  who 
are  true  to  themselves  and  the  light  which  is  in  them 
113 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

through  thick  and  thin.  Bnt  you  see,  he  admits  him- 
self that  he  needs  to  mix  with  the  world  a  little  more. 
Otherwise  he  is  perfect.  You  know  that  perhaps, 
already,  Selma.  But  I  wish  to  tell  it  to  you  before  him. 
Take  care  of  him,  dear,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  It  was  because  I  felt  that  his  thoughts  were  nobler 
than  most  men's  that  I  wished  to  marry  him,"  Selma 
replied,  seraphically.  "  But  I  can  see  that  it  is  sensi- 
ble to  live  where  your  friends  live.  I  shall  try  not  to 
spoil  him,  Pauline."  She  was  already  conscious  of  a 
mission  which  appealed  to  her.  She  had  been  content 
until  now  in  the  ardor  of  her  love  to  regard  Wilbur  as 
flawless — as  in  some  respects  superior  to  herself  ;  bnt  it 
was  a  gratification  to  her  to  detect  this  failing,  and  to 
perceive  her  opportunity  for  usefulness.  Surely  it  was 
important  for  her  husband  to  be  progressive  and  not 
merely  a  dreamer. 

Littleton  looked  from  one  to  the  other  fondly.  "  Not 
many  men  are  blessed  with  the  love  of  two  such  wom- 
en," he  said.  "  I  put  myself  in  your  hands.  I  bow  my 
neck  to  the  yoke." 

In  New  York  in  the  early  seventies  the  fashionable 
quarter  lay  between  Eighth  and  Fortieth  Streets,  bounded 
on  either  side  by  Fourth  and  Sixth  Avenues.  Central 
Park  was  completed,  but  the  region  west  of  it  was,  from 
the  social  stand-point,  still  a  wilderness,  and  Fifth  Ave- 
nue in  the  neighborhood  of  Twenty-third  Street  was  the 
centre  of  elegant  social  life.  Selma  took  her  first  view 
of  this  brilliant  street  on  the  following  day  on  her  way 
to  hunt  for  houses  in  the  outlying  district.  The  roar 
and  bustle  of  the  city,  which  thrilled  yet  dazed  her, 
seemed  here  softened  by  the  rows  of  tall,  imposing  resi- 
dences in  brown  stone.  Along  the  sunny  sidewalks 
114 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

passed  with  jaunty  tread  an  ever-hurrying  procession 
of  stylishly  clad  men  and  women  ;  and  along  the  road- 
bed sped  an  array  of  private  carriages  conducted  by 
coachmen  in  livery.  It  was  a  brilliant  day,  and  New 
Yorkers  were  making  the  most  of  it. 

Selma  had  never  seen  such  a  sight  before.  Benham 
faded  into  insignificance  in  comparison.  She  was  ex- 
cited, and  she  gazed  eagerly  at  the  spectacle.  Yet  her 
look,  though  absorbed,  was  stern.  This  sort  of  thing 
was  unlike  anything  American  within  her  personal 
experience.  This  avenue  of  grand  houses  and  this  pro- 
cession of  fine  individuals  and  fine  vehicles  made  her 
think  of  that  small  section  of  Benham  into  which  she 
had  never  been  invited,  and  the  thought  affected  her 
disagreeably. 

"  Who  are  the  people  who  live  in  these  houses  ?  "  she 
asked,  presently. 

Littleton  had  already  told  her  that  it  was  the  most 
fashionable  street  in  the  city. 

"Oh,  the  rich  and  prosperous." 

"  Those  who  gamble  in  stocks,  I  suppose."  Selma 
wished  to  be  assured  that  this  was  so. 

"  Some  of  them,"  said  Littleton,  with  a  langh. 
"  They  belong  to  people  who  have  made  money  in  va- 
rious ways  or  have  inherited  it — our  well-to-do  class, 
among  them  the  first  families  in  New  York,  and  many 
of  them  our  best  citizens." 

"  Are  they  friends  of  yours  ?  " 

Littleton  laughed  again.  "A  few — not  many.  Soci- 
ety here  is  divided  into  sets,  and  they  are  not  in  my  set. 
I  prefer  mine,  and  fortunately,  for  I  can't  afford  to 
belong  to  theirs." 

"  Oh  1 " 

115 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

The  frigidity  and  dryness  of  the  exclamation  Little- 
ton ascribed  to  Selma's  intuitive  enmity  to  the  vanities 
of  life. 

"  You  mustn't  pass  judgment  on  them  too  hastily," 
he  said.  "  New  York  is  a  wonderful  place,  and  it's 
likely  to  shock  you  before  you  learn  to  appreciate  what 
is  interesting  and  fine  here.  I  will  tell  you  a  secret, 
Selma.  Every  one  likes  to  make  money.  Even  clergy- 
men feel  it  their  duty  to  accept  a  call  from  the  congre- 
gation which  offers  the  best  salary,  and  probing  men  of 
science  do  not  hesitate  to  reap  the  harvest  from  a  won- 
derful invention.  Yet  it  is  the  fashion  with  most  of  the 
people  in  this  country  who  possess  little  to  prate  about 
the  wickedness  of  money-getters  and  to  think  evil  of  the 
rich.  That  proceeds  chiefly  from  envy,  and  it  is  sheer 
cant.  The  people  of  the  United  States  are  engaged  in 
an  eager  struggle  to  advance  themselves — to  gain  indi- 
vidual distinction,  comfort,  success,  and  in  New  York 
to  a  greater  extent  than  in  any  other  place  can  the  capa- 
ble man  or  woman  sell  his  or  her  wares  to  the  best  ad- 
vantage— be  they  what  they  may,  stocks,  merchandise, 
law,  medicine,  pictures.  The  world  pays  well  for  the 
things  it  wants — and  the  world  is  pretty  just  in  the 
long  run.  If  it  doesn't  like  my  designs,  that  will  be 
because  they're  not  worth  buying.  The  great  thing — 
the  difficult  thing  to  guard  against  in  the  whirl  of  this 
great  city,  where  we  are  all  striving  to  get  ahead — is  not 
to  sell  one's  self  for  money,  not  to  sacrifice  the  thing 
worth  doing  for  mere  pecuniary  advantage.  It's  the 
great  temptation  to  some  to  do  so,  for  only  money  can 
buy  fine  houses,  and  carriages  and  jewels — yes,  and  in  a 
certain  sense,  social  preferment.  The  problem  is  pre- 
sented in  a  different  form  to  every  man.  Some  can 
116 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

grow  rich  honestly,  and  some  have  to  remain  poor  in 
order  to  be  true  to  themselves.  We  may  have  to  remain 
poor,  Selma  mia."  He  spoke  gayly,  as  though  that 
prospect  did  not  disturb  him  in  the  least. 

"  And  we  shall  be  just  as  good  as  the  people  who  own 
these  houses/'  She  said  it  gravely,  as  if  it  were  a 
declaration  of  principles,  and  at  the  same  moment  her 
gaze  was  caught  and  disturbed  by  a  pair  of  blithe, 
fashionably  dressed  young  women  gliding  by  her  with 
the  quiet,  unconscious  grace  of  good-breeding.  She- 
was  inwardly  aware,  though  she  would  never  acknowl- 
edge it  by  word  or  sign,  that  such  people  troubled  her. 
More  even  than  Mrs.  Taylor  had  troubled  her.  They 
were  different  from  her  and  they  tantalized  her. 

At  the  same  moment  her  husband  was  saying  in  reply, 
"Just  as  good,  but  not  necessarily  any  better.  No — 
other  things  being  equal — not  so  good.  We  mustn't 
deceive  ourselves  with  that  piece  of  cant.  Some  of 
them  are  frivolous  enough,  and  dishonest  enough, 
heaven  knows,  but  so  there  are  frivolous  and  dishonest 
people  in  every  class.  But  there  are  many  more  who 
endeavor  to  be  good  citizens — are  good  citizens,  our 
best  citizens.  The  possession  of  money  gives  them  the 
opportunity  to  become  arbiters  of  morals  and  taste,  and 
to  seek  culture  under  the  best  advantages.  After  all, 
an  accumulation  of  money  represents  brains  and  energy 
in  some  one.  Look  at  this  swell/'  he  continued,  in- 
dicating an  attractive  looking  young  man  who  was  pass- 
ing. "  His  grandfather  was  one  of  the  ablest  men  in 
the  city — an  intelligent,  self-respecting,  shrewd,  indus- 
trious, public-spirited  citizen  who  made  a  large  fortune. 
The  son  has  had  advantages  which  I  have  never  had, 
and  I  happen  to  know  that  he  is  a  fine  fellow  and  a  very 
117 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

able  one.  If  it  came  to  comparisons,  I  should  be  obliged 
to  admit  that  he's  a  more  ornamental  member  of  society 
than  Jones,  Brown,  or  Robinson,  and  certainly  no  less 
useful.  Do  I  shock  you — you  sweet,  unswerving  little 
democrat  of  the  democrats  ?  " 

It  always  pleased  Selma  to  be  called  endearing  names, 
»nd  it  suited  her  in  her  present  frame  of  mind  to  be 
dubbed  a  democrat,  for  it  did  not  suit  her  to  be  pain- 
fully realizing  that  she  was  unable,  at  one  brilliant 
swoop,  to  take  her  place  as  a  leader  in  social  influence. 
Somehow  she  had  expected  to  do  this,  despite  her  first 
difficulties  at  Benham,  for  she  had  thought  of  New 
York  as  a  place  where,  as  the  wife  of  Littleton,  the 
architect,  she  would  at  once  be  a  figure  of  importance. 
She  shook  her  head  and  said,  "  It's  hard  to  believe 
that  these  people  are  really  in  earnest ;  that  they  are 
serious  in  purpose  and  spirit."  Meanwhile  she  was 
being  haunted  by  the  irritating  reflection  that  her 
clothes  and  her  bearing  were  inferior  to  those  of  the 
women  she  was  passing.  Secretly  she  was  making  a 
resolve  to  imitate  them,  though  she  believed  that  she 
despised  them.  She  put  her  hand  through  her 
husband's  arm  and  added,  almost  fiercely,  as  she 
pressed  closer  to  him,  "We  needn't  trouble  our 
heads  about  them,  Wilbur.  We  can  get  along  without 
being  rich  and  fashionable,  you  and  I.  In  spite  of  what 
you  say,  I  don't  consider  this  sort  of  thing  American." 

"  Get  along  ?  Darling,  I  was  merely  trying  to  be 
just  to  them  ;  to  let  you  see  that  they  are  not  so  black 
as  they're  painted.  We  will  forget  them  forever.  We 
have  nothing  in  common  with  them.  Get  along  ?  I 
feel  that  my  life  will  be  a  paradise  living  with  yon  and 
trying  to  make  some  impression  on  the  life  of  this  big, 
118 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

striving  city.  But  as  to  its  not  being  American  to  live 
like  these  people— well  you  know  they  are  Americans 
and  that  New  York  is  the  Mecca  of  the  hard-fisted  sons 
of  toil  from  all  over  the  country  who  have  made  money. 
But  you're  right,  Selma.  Those  who  go  in  for  show 
and  extravagance  are  not  the  best  Americans — the 
Americans  whom  you  and  I  believe  in.  Sometimes  I 
get  discouraged  when  I  stop  to  think,  and  now  I  shall 
have  you  to  keep  me  steadfast  to  our  faith." 

"Yes,  Wilbur.  And  how  far  from  here  are  we  to 
live?" 

"  Oh,  a  mile  or  more.  On  some  side  street  where  the 
land  is  cheap  and  the  rent  low.  What  do  we  care  for 
that,  Selma  mia  ?" 


CHAPTER  II. 

SHORTLY  before  Selma  Littleton  took  up  her  abode 
in  New  York,  Miss  Florence,  or,  as  she  was  familiarly 
known,  Miss  Flossy  Price,  was  an  inhabitant  of  a  New 
Jersey  city.  Her  father  was  a  second  cousin  of  Morton 
Price,  whose  family  at  that  time  was  socially  conspicu- 
ous in  fashionable  New  York  society.  Not  aggressively 
conspicuous,  as  ultra  fashionable  people  are  to-day,  by 
dint  of  frequent  newspaper  advertisement,  but  in  conse- 
quence of  elegant,  conservative  respectability,  fortified 
by  and  cushioned  on  a  huge  income.  In  the  early  sev- 
enties to  know  the  Morton  Prices  was  a  social  passport, 
and  by  no  means  every  one  socially  ambitious  knew 
them.  Morton  Price's  great-grandfather  had  been  a 
peddler,  his  grandfather  a  tea  merchant,  his  father  a 
tea  merchant  and  bank  organizer,  and  he  himself  did 
nothing  mercantile,  but  was  a  director  in  diverse  insti- 
tutions, representing  trusts  or  philanthropy,  and  was  re- 
garded by  many,  including  himself,  as  the  embodiment 
of  ornamental  and  admirable  citizenship.  He  could 
talk  by  the  hour  on  the  degeneracy  of  state  and  city 
politics  and  the  evil  deeds  of  Congress,  and  was,  gener- 
ally speaking,  a  conservative,  fastidious,  well-dressed, 
well-fed  man,  who  had  a  winning  way  with  women  and 
a  happy  faculty  of  looking  wise  and  saying  nothing  rash 
in  the  presence  of  men.  Some  of  the  younger  genera- 
tion were  apt,  with  the  lack  of  reverence  belonging  to 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

youth,  to  speak  of  him  covertly  as  "a  stuffed  club,"  but 
no  echo  of  this  epithet  had  ever  reached  the  ear  of  his 
cousin,  David  Price,  in  New  Jersey.  For  him,  as  for 
most  of  the  world  within  a  radius  of  two  hundred  miles, 
he  was  above  criticism  and  a  monument  of  social 
power. 

David  Price,  Miss  Flossy's  father,  was  the  president 
of  a  small  and  unprogressive  but  eminently  solid  bank. 
Respectable  routine  was  his  motto,  and  he  lived  up  to 
it,  and,  as  a  consequence,  no  more  sound  institution  of 
the  kind  existed  in  his  neighborhood.  He  and  his  di- 
rectors were  slow  to  adopt  innovations  of  any  kind  ;  they 
put  stumbling  blocks  in  the  path  of  business  conven- 
ience whenever  they  could  ;  in  short,  David  Price  in  his 
humble  way  was  a  righteous,  narrow,  hide-bound  re- 
tarder  of  progress  and  worshipper  of  established  local 
custom.  Therefore  it  was  a  constant  source  of  surprise 
and  worry  to  him  that  he  should  have  a  progressive 
daughter.  There  were  four  other  children,  patterns  of 
quiet,  plodding  conservatism,  but — such  is  the  irony  of 
fate — the  youngest,  prettiest,  and  his  favorite,  was  an 
independent,  opinionated  young  woman,  who  seemed  to 
turn  a  deaf  ear  to  paternal  and  maternal  advice  of  safest 
New  Jersey  type.  In  her  father's  words,  she  had  no 
reverence  for  any  thing  or  any  body,  which  was  approxi- 
mately true,  for  she  did  not  hesitate  to  speak  disrespect- 
fully even  of  the  head  of  the  house  in  New  York. 

"  Poppa, "  she  said  one  day,  "  Cousin  Morton  doesn't 
care  for  any  of  us  a  little  bit.  I  know  what  you're  go- 
ing to  say,"  she  added  ;  "  that  he  sends  you  two  turkeys 
every  Thanksgiving.  The  last  were  terribly  tough. 
I'm  sure  he  thinks  that  we  never  see  turkeys  here  in 
New  Jersey,  and  that  he  considers  us  poor  relations  and 

m 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

that  we  live  in  a  hole.  If  one  of  us  should  call  on  him, 
I  know  it  would  distress  him  awfully.  He's  right  in 
thinking  that  this  is  a  hole.  Nothing  ever  happens 
here,  and  when  I  marry  I  intend  to  live  in  New  York." 

This  was  when  she  was  seventeen.  Her  father  was 
greatly  shocked,  especially  as  he  suspected  in  his  secret 
soul  that  the  tirade  was  true  in  substance.  He  had  been 
the  recipient  of  Thanksgiving  turkeys  for  nearly  twenty 
years  on  the  plea  that  they  had  been  grown  on  the 
donor's  farm  in  Westchester  county,  and  he  had  seen  fit 
to  invite  his  fellow-directors  annually  to  dine  off  one  of 
them  as  a  modest  notice  that  he  was  on  friendly  terms 
with  his  aristocratic  New  York  cousin.  But  in  all  these 
twenty  years  turkeys  had  been  the  only  medium  of  in- 
tercourse between  them.  David  Price,  on  the  few  occa- 
sions when  he  had  visited  New  York,  had  not  found  it 
convenient  to  call.  Once  he  had  walked  by  on  the  other 
side  of  Fifth  avenue  and  looked  at  the  house,  but  shy- 
ness and  the  thought  that  he  had  no  evening  clothes  in 
his  valise  had  restrained  him  from  ringing  the  door- 
bell. 

"  You  do  your  cousin  Morton  great  injustice* — great 
injustice,  Florence,"  he  answered.  "  He  never  forgets 
to  send  the  turkeys,  and  as  to  the  rest  of  your  speech,  I 
have  only  to  say  that  it  is  very  disrespectful  and  very 
foolish.  The  next  time  I  go  to  New  York  I  will  take 
you  to  call  on  your  cousins." 

" And  what  would  I  say  to  them?  No  thank  you, 
poppa."  The  young  woman  shook  her  head  decisively, 
and  then  she  added,  "  I'm  not  going  to  call  on  them 
until  I'm  fit  to.  There!" 

The  ambiguity  of  this  remark  gave  Mr.  Price  the  op- 
portunity to  say  that,  in  view  of  her  immediate  short* 
122 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

comings,  it  was  a  wise  conclusion,  but  he  knew  what 
she  really  meant  and  was  distressed.  His  feeling  to- 
ward his  cousin,  though  mildly  envious,  did  not  extend 
to  self -depreciation,  nor  had  it  served  to  undermine  his 
faith  in  the  innate  dignity  and  worth  of  New  Jersey 
family  life.  He  could  not  only  with  a  straight  face,  but 
with  a  kindling  eye  inveigh  against  the  perils  of  New 
York  fashionable  life,  and  express  gratification  that  no 
son  or  daughter  of  his  had  wandered  so  far  from  the 
fold.  It  distressed  him  to  think  that  Florence  should 
be  casting  sheep's  eyes  at  the  flesh-pots  of  Gotham,  and 
so  failing  to  appreciate  the  blessings  and  safety  of  a 
quiet  American  home. 

Miss  Flossy  continued  to  entertain  and  to  express 
opinions  of  her  own,  and  as  a  result  became  socially  in 
teresting.  At  eighteen,  by  her  beauty,  her  engaging 
frankness  and  lack  of  self-consciousness,  she  spread 
havoc  among  the  young  men  of  her  native  city,  several 
of  whom  offered  her  marriage.  But  marriage  was  far 
from  her  thoughts.  Life  seemed  too  interesting  and  she 
wished  to  see  the  world.  She  was  erect  and  alert  look- 
ing, with  a  compact  figure  of  medium  height,  restless 
gray  eyes  and  rich  red  hair,  and  a  laughing  mouth; 
also  an  innocent  demeanor,  which  served  to  give  her, 
by  moonlight,  the  effect  of  an  angel.  She  succeeded  in 
visiting  Bar  Harbor,  where  she  promptly  became  a 
bright  particular  star  among  the  galaxy  of  young  women 
who  at  that  period  were  establishing  the  reputation  of 
the  summer  girl.  She  continued  to  be  a  summer  girl 
for  four  seasons  without  injury  to  her  own  peace  of 
mind.  At  the  end  of  the  fourth  summer  she  appeared 
on  close  scrutiny  to  be  a  little  worn,  and  her  innocent 
air  seemed  a  trifle  deliberate.  She  returned  to  her  home 
123 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

in  New  Jersey  in  not  quite  her  usual  spirits.  In  fact 
she  became  pensive.  She  had  seen  the  world,  and  lo  ! 
she  found  it  stuffed  with  sawdust  She  was  ready  to 
settle  down,  but  the  only  man  with  whom  she  would 
have  been  willing  to  settle  had  never  asked  her.  He  was 
the  brother  of  one  of  the  girls  who  had  been  forbidden 
by  her  mother  to  stay  out  in  canoes  with  young  men 
after  nine  at  night.  The  rumor  had  reached  Flossy  that 
this  same  mother  had  referred  to  her  in  "  the  fish  pond  " 
at  Rodick's  as  "  that  dreadful  girl."  It  would  have 
pleased  her  after  that  to  have  wrung  an  offer  of  mar- 
riage from  the  son  and  heir,  who  knew  her  cousins,  the 
Morton  Prices,  and  to  whom  she  would  have  been  will- 
ing to  engage  herself  temporarily  at  all  events.  He  was 
very  devoted  ;  they  stayed  out  in  his  canoe  until  past 
midnight ;  he  wrote  verses  to  her  and  told  her  his  inner- 
most thoughts ;  but  he  stopped  there.  He  went  away 
without  committing  himself,  and  she  was  left  to  chew 
the  cud  of  reflection.  It  was  bitter,  not  because  she  was 
in  love  with  him,  for  she  was  not.  In  her  heart  she 
knew  he  bored  her  a  little.  But  she  was  piqued.  Evi- 
dently he  had  been  afraid  to  marry  "  that  dreadful  girl." 
She  was  piqued  and  she  was  sad.  She  recognized  that 
it  was  another  case  of  not  being  fit.  When  would  she 
be  fit  ?  What  was  she  to  do  in  order  to  become  tit — fit 
like  the  girl  who  was  not  allowed  to  stay  on  the  water 
after  nine  o'clock  ?  She  had  ceased  to  think  of  the 
young  man,  but  the  image  of  his  sister  haunted  her. 
How  stylish  she  was,  yet  how  simple  and  quiet !  "I 
wonder,"  thought  Flossy  to  herself,  "  if  I  could  ever 
become  like  her."  The  reflection  threw  her  into  a 
brown  study  in  which  she  remained  for  weeks,  and  dur- 
ing which  she  refused  the  hand  of  a  staid  and  respectable 
124 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

townsman,  who,  in  her  father's  words,  was  ready  to  take 
her  with  all  her  follies.  David  Price  was  disappointed. 
He  loved  this  independent  daughter,  and  he  had  hopes 
that  her  demure  and  reticent  deportment  signified  that 
the  effervescence  of  youth  had  evaporated.  But  it  was 
only  an  effort  on  Flossy's  part  to  imitate  the  young 
man's  sister. 

At  this  juncture  and  just  when  she  was  bored  and 
dispirited  by  the  process,  Gregory  Williams  appeared  on 
the  scene.  Flossy  met  him  at  a  dancing  party.  He  had 
a  very  tall  collar,  a  very  friendly,  confident,  and  (to- 
ward her)  devoted  manner,  and  good  looks.  It  was 
whispered  among  the  girls  that  he  was  a  banker  from 
New  York.  He  was  obviously  not  over  thirty,  which 
was  young  for  a  banker,  but  so  he  presently  described 
himself  to  Flossy  with  hints  of  impending  prosperity. 
He  spoke  glibly  and  picturesquely.  He  had  a  convinc- 
ing eloquence  of  gesture — a  wave  of  the  hand  which 
suggested  energy  and  compelled  confidence.  He  had 
picked  her  out  at  once  to  be  introduced  to,  and  sym- 
pathy between  them  was  speedily  established.  Her 
wearing,  as  a  red-headed  girl,  a  white  horse  in  the  form 
of  a  pin,  in  order  to  prevent  the  attention  of  the  men 
to  whom  she  talked  from  wandering,  delighted  him. 
He  said  to  himself  that  here  was  a  girl  after  his  own 
heart.  He  had  admired  her  looks  at  the  outset,  but  he 
gazed  at  her  now  more  critically.  He  danced  every 
dance  with  her,  and  they  sat  together  at  supper,  apart 
from  everybody  else.  Flossy's  resolutions  were  swept 
away.  That  is,  she  had  become  in  an  instant  indiffer- 
ent to  the  fact  that  the  New  York  girl  she  had  yearned 
to  imitate  would  not  have  made  herself  so  conspicuous. 
Her  excuse  was  that  she  could  not  help  herself.  It  was 
125 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

a  case  of  genuine,  violent  attraction,  which  she  made  no 
effort  to  struggle  against. 

The  attraction  was  violent  on  both  sides.  Gregory 
Williams  was  not  seeking  to  be  married.  He  had  been, 
until  within  sir  months,  a  broker's  clerk,  and  had  be- 
come a  banker  on  the  strength  of  ten  thousand  dollars 
bequeathed  to  him  by  a  grandmother.  He  and  a  clerk 
from  another  broker's  office,  J.  Willett  VanHome,  had 
recently  formed  a  partnership  as  Williams  &  VanHorne, 
Bankers  and  Dealers  in  Stocks  and  Bonds.  He  was  not 
seeking  to  be  married,  but  he  intended  to  be  married 
some  day,  and  it  was  no  part  of  his  scheme  of  life  to 
deny  himself  anything  he  wished.  Support  a  wife  ?  Of 
course  he  could  ;  and  support  her  in  the  same  grandiose 
fashion  which  he  had  adopted  for  himself  since  he  had 
begun  business  on  his  own  account.  He  had  chosen  as 
a  philosophy  of  life  the  smart  paradox,  which  he  enjoyed 
uttering,  that  he  spent  what  he  needed  first  and  supplied 
the  means  later;  and  at  the  same  time  he  let  it  be 
understood  that  the  system  worked  wonderfully.  He 
possessed  unlimited  confidence  in  himself,  and  though 
he  was  dimly  aware  that  a  very  small  turn  of  the  wheel 
of  fortune  in  the  wrong  direction  would  ruin  him  finan- 
cially, he  chose  to  close  his  eyes  to  the  possibilities  of 
disaster  and  to  assume  a  bold  and  important  bearing 
before  the  world.  He  had  implicit  faith  in  his  own 
special  line  of  ability,  and  he  appreciated  the  worth  of 
his  partner,  VanHorne.  He  had  joined  forces  with 
VanHorne  because  he  knew  that  he  was  the  opposite  of 
himself — that  ho  was  a  delving,  thorough,  shrewd,  keen 
office  man — and  able  too.  How  genuinely  able  Williams 
did  not  yet  know.  He  himself  was  to  be  the  showy 
partner,  the  originator  of  schemes  and  procurer  of  busi- 
126 


UNLEAVENED  BKEAD 

ness,  the  brilliant  man  before  the  world.  So  there  was 
some  method  in  his  madness.  And  with  it  all  went  a 
cheery,  incisive,  humorous  point  of  view  which  was  con- 
genial and  diverting  to  Flossy. 

He  went  away,  but  he  came  back  once — twice — thrice 
in  quick  succession.  On  business,  so  he  said  casually  to 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Price,  but  his  language  to  their  daughter 
was  a  declaration  of  personal  devotion.  It  remained  for 
her  to  say  whether  she  would  marry  him  or  no.  Of  one 
thing  she  was  sure  without  need  of  reflection,  that  she 
loved  him  ardently.  As  a  consequence  she  surrendered 
at  once,  though,  curiously  enough,  she  was  conscious 
when  she  permitted  him  to  kiss  her  with  effusion  that 
he  was  not  the  sort  of  man  she  had  intended  to  marry — 
that  he  was  not  fit  in  her  sense  of  the  word.  Yet  she 
was  determined  to  marry  him,  and  from  the  moment 
their  troth  was  plighted  she  found  herself  his  eager  and 
faithful  ally,  dreaming  and  scheming  on  their  joint 
account.  She  would  help  him  to  succeed  ;  they  would 
conquer  the  world  together  ;  she  would  never  doubt  his 
ability  to  conquer  it.  And  in  time — yes,  in  time  they 
would  make  even  the  Morton  Prices  notice  them. 

And  so  after  some  bewildered  opposition  on  the  part 
of  Mr.  Price,  who  was  alternately  appalled  and  fasci- 
nated by  the  magniloquent  language  of  his  would-be  son- 
in-law,  they  were  married.  Flossy  gave  but  a  single 
sign  to  her  husband  that  she  understood  him  and  recog- 
nized what  they  really  represented.  It  was  one  evening 
a  few  months  after  they  had  set  up  housekeeping  while 
they  were  walking  home  from  the  theatre.  They  had 
previously  dined  at  Delmonico's,  and  the  cost  of  the 
evening's  entertainment,  including  a  bottle  of  champagne 
at  dinner,  their  tickets  and  a  corsage  bouquet  of  violets 
127 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

for  Flossy,  had  been  fifteen  dollars.  Flossy  wore  a 
resplendent  theatre  hat  and  fashionable  cape — one  of 
the  several  stylish  costumes  with  which  her  husband 
had  hastened  to  present  her,  and  Gregory  was  convoy- 
ing her  along  the  Avenue  with  the  air  of  a  man  not 
averse  to  have  the  world  recognize  that  they  were  a  well 
set  up  and  prosperous  couple.  Flossy  had  put  her  arm 
well  inside  his  and  was  doing  her  best  to  help  him  pro- 
duce the  effect  which  he  desired,  when  she  suddenly 
said  : 

< '  I  wonder,  Gregory,  how  long  it  will  be  before  we're 
really  anybody.  Now,  of  course,  we're  only  make  believe 
swell." 

Gregory  gave  an  amused  laugh.  "  What  a  clever  little 
woman  !  That's  just  what  we  are.  We'll  keep  it  a  se- 
cret, though,  and  won't  advertise  it  to  the  world." 

'•  Mum's  the  word,"  she  replied,  giving  his  arm  a 
squeeze.  "  I  only  wished  you  to  know  that  I  was  not 
being  fooled  ;  that  I  understood." 

Fate  ordained  that  the  Williamses  and  the  Littletons 
should  take  houses  side  by  side  in  the  same  block.  It 
was  a  new  block,  and  at  first  they  were  the  sole  occu- 
pants. Williams  bought  his  house,  giving  a  mortgage 
back  to  the  seller  for  all  the  man  would  accept,  and  ob- 
taining a  second  mortgage  from  a  money  lender  in  con- 
sideration of  a  higher  rate  of  interest,  for  practically  the 
remaining  value.  He  furnished  his  house  ornately  from 
top  to  bottom  in  the  latest  fashion,  incurring  bills  for  a 
portion  of  the  effects,  and  arranging  to  pay  on  the  in- 
stalment plan  where  he  could  not  obtain  full  credit.  His 
reasoning  was  convincing  to  himself  and  did  not  alarm 
Flossy,  who  was  glad  to  feel  that  they  were  the  owners 
of  the  house  and  attractive  furniture.  It  was  that  the 
128 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

land  was  sure  to  improve  in  value  before  the  mortgage 
became  due,  and  as  for  the  carpets  and  curtains  and 
other  outlays,  a  few  points  in  the  stock  market  would 
pay  for  them  at  any  time. 

Wilbur  Littleton  did  not  possess  the  ready  money  to 
buy  ;  consequently  he  took  a  lease  of  his  new  house  for 
three  years,  and  paid  promptly  for  the  furniture  he 
bought,  the  selection  of  which  was  gradual.  Gregory 
Williams  had  a  marvellous  way  of  entering  a  shop  and 
buying  everything  which  pleased  his  eye  at  one  fell 
swoop,  but  Wilbur,  who  desired  to  accomplish  the  best 
aesthetic  effects  possible  consistent  with  his  limited 
means,  trotted  Selma  from  one  shop  to  another  before 
choosing.  This  process  of  selecting  slowly  the  things 
with  which  they  were  to  pass  their  lives  was  a  pleasure 
to  him,  and,  as  he  supposed,  to  Selma.  She  did  enjoy 
keenly  at  first  beholding  the  enticing  contents  of  the  va- 
rious stores  which  they  entered  in  the  process  of  pro- 
curing wall-papers,  carpets,  and  the  other  essentials  for 
house-keeping.  It  was  a  revelation  to  her  that  such  beau- 
tiful things  existed,  and  her  inclination  was  to  purchase 
the  most  showy  and  the  most  costly  articles.  In  the 
adornment  of  her  former  home  Babcock  had  given  her 
a  free  hand.  That  is,  his  disposition  had  been  to  buy  the 
finest  things  which  the  shopkeepers  of  Benham  called  to 
his  attention.  She  understood  now  that  his  taste  and  the 
taste  of  Benham,  and  even  her's,  had  been  at  fault,  but 
she  found  herself  hampered  now  by  a  new  and  annoying 
limitation,  the  smallness  of  their  means.  Almost  every 
thing  was  very  expensive,  and  she  was  obliged  >  to  pass 
by  the  patterns  and  materials  she  desired  to  possess,  and 
accept  articles  of  a  more  sober  and  less  engaging  char- 
acter. Many  of  these,  to  be  sure,  were  declared  by  Wil- 
129 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

bur  to  be  artistically  charming  and  more  suitable  than 
many  which  she  preferred,  but  it  would  have  suited  her 
better  to  fix  on  the  rich  upholstery  and  solid  furniture, 
which  were  evidently  the  latest  fashion  in  household 
decoration,  rather  than  go  mousing  from  place  to  place,' 
only  at  last  to  pick  up  in  the  back  corner  of  some  store 
this  or  that  object  which  was  both  reasonably  pretty  and 
reasonably  cheap.  When  it  was  all  over  Selma  was 
pleased  with  the  effect  of  her  establishment,  but  she  had 
eaten  of  the  tree  of  knowledge.  She  had  visited  the 
New  York  shops.  These,  in  her  capacity  of  a  God-fear- 
ing American,  she  would  have  been  ready  to  anathema- 
tize in  a  speech  or  in  a  newspaper  article,  but  the  mem- 
ory of  them  haunted  her  imagination  and  left  her 
domestic  yearnings  not  wholly  satisfied. 

Wilbur  Littleton's  scheme  of  domestic  life  was  essen- 
tially spiritual,  and  in  the  development  of  it  he  felt 
that  he  was  consulting  his  wife's  tastes  and  theories  no 
less  than  his  own.  He  knew  that  she  understood  that 
he  was  ambitious  to  make  a  name  for  himself  as  an 
architect ;  but  to  make  it  only  by  virtue  of  work  of  a 
high  order ;  that  he  was  unwilling  to  become  a  time- 
server  or  to  lower  his  professional  standards  merely  to 
make  temporary  progress,  which  in  the  end  would  mar, 
a  success  worth  having.  He  had  no  doubt  that  he  had 
made  this  clear  to  her  and  that  she  sympathized  with 
him.  As  a  married  man  it  was  his  desire  and  intention 
not  to  allow  his  interest  in  this  ambition  to  interfere 
with  the  enjoyment  of  the  new  great  happiness  which 
had  come  into  his  life.  He  would  be  a  professional  re- 
cluse no  longer.  He  would  cast  off  his  work  when  he 
left  his  office,  and  devote  his  evenings  to  the  aesthetic 
delights  of  Selma's  society.  They  would  read  aloud ; 
130 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

he  would  tell  her  his  plans  and  ask  her  advice ;  they 
would  go  now  and  then  to  the  theatre  ;  and,  in  justice 
to  her,  they  would  occasionally  entertain  their  friends 
and  accept  invitations  from  them.  With  this  outlook 
in  mind  he  had  made  such  an  outlay  as  would  render 
his  home  attractive  and  cosey — simple  as  became  a  coup- 
le just  beginning  life,  yet  the  abode  of  a  gentleman 
and  a  lover  of  inspiring  and  pretty  things. 

As  has  been  mentioned,  Littleton  was  a  Unitarian, 
and  one  effect  of  his  faith  had  been  to  make  his  point 
of  view  broad  and  straightforward.  He  detested  hy- 
pocrisy and  cant,  subterfuge  and  self-delusion.  He 
was  content  to  let  other  people  live  according  to  their 
own  lights  without  too  much  distress  on  their  account, 
but  he  was  too  honest  and  too  clear-headed  to  be  able 
to  deceive  himself  as  to  his  own  motives  and  his  own 
conduct.  He  had  no  intention  to  be  morbid,  but  he 
saw  clearly  that  it  was  his  privilege  and  his  duty  to  be 
true  to  both  his  loves,  his  wife  and  his  profession,  and 
that  if  he  neglected  either,  he  would  be  so  far  false  to 
his  best  needs  and  aspirations.  Yet  he  felt  that  for  the 
moment  it  was  incumbent  on  him  to  err  on  the  side  of 
devotion  to  his  wife  until  she  should  become  accus- 
tomed to  her  new  surroundings. 

The  problem  of  the  proper  arrangement  and  sub- 
division of  life  in  a  large  city  and  in  these  seething, 
modern  times  is  perplexing  to  all  of  us.  There  are  so 
many  things  we  would  like  to  do  which  we  cannot ; 
so  many  things  which  we  do  against  our  wills.  We  are 
perpetually  squinting  at  happiness,  but  just  as  we  get 
a  delightful  vision  before  our  eyes  we  are  whisked  off 
by  duty  or  ambition  or  the  force  of  social  momentum 
to  try  a  different  view.  Consequently  our  perennial  re- 
131 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

gret  is  apt  to  be  that  we  have  seen  our  real  interests 
and  our  real  friends  as  in  a  panorama,  for  a  fleeting 
moment,  and  then  no  more  until  the  next  time.  For 
Littleton  this  was  less  true  than  for  most.  His  life 
was  deep  and  stable  rather  than  many-sided.  To  be 
sure  his  brain  experienced,  now  and  then,  the  dazing 
effects  of  trying  to  confront  all  the  problems  of  the 
universe  and  adapt  his  architectural  endeavors  to  his 
interpretation  of  them  ;  and  he  knew  well  the  bewilder- 
ing difficulties  of  the  process  of  adjusting  professional 
theories  to  the  sterile  conditions  which  workaday  prac- 
tice often  presented.  But  this  crowding  of  his  mental 
canvas  was  all  in  the  line  of  his  life  purpose.  The 
days  were  too  short,  and  sometimes  left  him  perplexed 
and  harassed  by  their  rush  ;  yet  he  was  still  pursuing 
the  tenor  of  his  way.  The  interest  of  marriage  was  not, 
therefore,  in  his  case  a  fresh  burden  on  a  soul  already 
laden  with  a  variety  of  side  pursuits.  He  was  neither 
socially  nor  philanthropically  active  ;  he  was  not  a  club 
man,  nor  an  athletic  enthusiast ;  he  was  on  no  commit- 
tees ;  he  voted  on  election  days,  but  he  did  not  take  an 
active  part  in  politics.  For  Selma's  sake  all  this  must 
be  changed  ;  and  he  was  glad  to  acknowledge  that  he 
owed  it  to  himself  as  well  as  to  her  to  widen  his  sym- 
pathies. 

As  a  first  step  in  reform  he  began  to  leave  his  office 
daily  at  five  instead  of  six,  and,  on  Saturdays,  as  soon 
after  two  as  possible.  For  a  few  months  these  brands 
of  time  snatched  from  the  furnace  of  his  professional 
ardor  were  devoted  to  the  shopping  relative  to  house- 
furnishing.  When  that  was  over,  to  walking  with 
Selma ;  sometimes  as  a  sheer  round  of  exercise  in  com- 
pany, sometimes  to  visit  a  print-shop,  exhibition  of 
132 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

pictures,  book-store,  or  other  attraction  of  the  honr. 
But  the  evening  was  for  him  the  ideal  portion  of  the 
day  ;  when,  after  dinner  was  done,  they  made  themselves 
comfortable  in  the  new  library,  their  living  room,  and  it 
became  his  privilege  to  read  aloud  to  her  or  to  compare 
ideas  with  her  regarding  books  and  pictures  and  what 
was  going  on  in  the  world.  It  had  been  a  dream  of 
Littleton's  that  some  day  he  would  re-read  consecutively 
the  British  poets,  and  as  soon  as  the  furniture  was  all  in 
place  and  the  questions  of  choice  of  rugs  and  chairs  and 
pictures  had  been  settled  by  purchase,  he  proposed  it  as 
a  definite  occupation  whenever  they  had  nothing  else 
in  view.  It  delighted  him  that  Selma  received  this 
suggestion  with  enthusiasm.  Accordingly,  they  devoted 
their  spare  evenings  to  the  undertaking,  reading  aloud 
in  turn.  Littleton's  enunciation  was  clear  and  intelli- 
gent, and  as  a  happy  lover  he  was  in  a  mood  to  fit  poetic 
thoughts  to  his  own  experience,  and  to  utter  them 
ardently.  While  he  read,  Selma  knew  that  she  was  ever 
the  heroine  of  his  imagination,  which  was  agreeable,  and 
she  recognized  besides  that  his  performance  in  itself  was 
assthetically  attractive.  Yet  in  spite  of  the  personal 
tribute,  Selma  preferred  the  evenings  when  she  herself 
was  the  elocutionist.  She  enjoyed  the  sound  of  her 
own  voice,  and  she  enjoyed  the  emotions  which  her 
utterance  of  the  rhythmic  stanzas  set  coursing  through 
her  brain.  It  was  obvious  to  her  that  Wilbur  was  cap- 
tivated by  her  reading,  and  she  delighted  in  giving 
herself  up  to  the  spirit  of  the  text  with  the  reservations 
appropriate  to  an  enlightened  but  virtuous  soul.  For 
instance,  in  the  case  of  Shelley,  she  gloried  in  his 
soaring,  but  did  not  let  herself  forget  that  fire-worship 
was  not  practical ;  in  the  case  of  Byron,  though  she 
133 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

yielded  her  senses  to  the  spell  of  his  passionate  imagery, 
she  reflected  approvingly  that  she  was  a  married  woman. 

But  Littleton  appreciated  also  that  his  wife  should 
have  the  society  of  others  beside  himself.  Pauline  in- 
troduced her  promptly  to  her  own  small  but  intelligent 
feminine  circle,  and  pending  Pauline's  removal  to  a  flat, 
the  Saturday  evening  suppers  were  maintained  at  the 
old  establishment.  Here  Selma  made  the  acquaintance 
of  her  husband's  and  his  sister's  friends,  both  men  and 
women,  who  dropped  in  often  after  the  play  and  with- 
out ceremony  for  a  weekly  interchange  of  thought  and 
comradeship.  Selma  looked  forward  to  the  first  of  these 
occasions  with  an  eager  curiosity.  She  expected  a  re- 
newal of  the  Benham  Institute,  only  in  a  more  impres- 
sive form,  as  befitted  a  great  literary  centre  ;  that  papers 
would  be  read,  original  compositions  recited,  and  many 
interesting  people  of  both  sexes  would  perform  accord- 
ing to  their  specialties.  She  confidently  hoped  to  have 
the  opportunity  to  declaim,  "  Oh,  why  should  the  spirit 
of  mortal  be  proud  ?  "  "  Curfew  must  not  ring  to-night," 
or  some  other  of  her  literary  pieces. 

Therefore,  it  was  almost  a  shock  to  her  that  the  affair 
was  so  informal,  and  that  the  company  seemed  chiefly 
occupied  in  behaving  gayly — in  making  sallies  at  each 
other's  expense,  which  were  greeted  with  merriment. 
They  seemed  to  her  like  a  lot  of  children  let  loose  from 
school.  There  were  no  exercises,  and  no  allusion  was 
made  to  the  attainments  of  the  various  guests  beyond  an 
occasional  word  of  introduction  by  Pauline  or  Wilbur  ; 
and  this  word  was  apt  to  be  of  serio-comic  import. 
Selma  realized  that  among  the  fifteen  people  present 
there  were  representatives  of  various  interesting  crafts — 
writers,  artists,  a  magazine  editor,  two  critics  of  the 
134 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

stage,  a  prominent  musician,  and  a  college  professor — 
but  none  of  them  seemed  to  her  to  act  a  part  or  to  have 
their  accomplishments  in  evidence,  as  she  would  have 
liked.  Every  one  was  very  cordial  to  her,  and  appeared 
desirous  to  recognize  her  as  a  permanent  member  of 
their  circle,  but  she  could  not  help  feeling  disappointed 
at  the  absence  of  ceremony  and  formal  events.  There 
was  no  president  or  secretary,  and  presently  the  party 
went  into  the  dining-room  and  sat  around  a  table,  at 
either  end  of  which  Pauline  and  Wilbur  presided  over  a 
blazer.  Interest  centred  on  the  preparation  of  a  rabbit 
and  creamed  oysters,  and  pleasant  badinage  flew  from 
tongue  to  tongue.  Selma  found  herself  between  the  maga- 
zine editor  and  a  large,  powerfully  built  man  with  abroad, 
rotund,  strong  face,  who  was  introduced  to  her  as  Dr. 
Page,  and  who  was  called  George  by  every  one  else.  He 
had  arrived  late,  just  as  they  were  going  in  to  supper,  and 
his  appearance  had  been  greeted  with  a  murmur  of  satis- 
faction. He  had  placed  himself  between  Pauline  and  her, 
and  he  showed  himself,  to  Selma's  thinking,  one  of  the 
least  dignified  of  the  company. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Littleton/'  he  said,  with  a  counter- 
feit of  great  gravity,  "you  are  now  witnessing  an  im- 
pressive example  of  the  politeness  of  true  friendship. 
There  are  cynics  who  assert  that  the  American  people 
are  lacking  in  courtesy,  and  cast  in  our  teeth  the  superi- 
ority of  Japanese  manners.  I  wish  they  were  here  to- 
night. There  is  not  a  single  individual  present,  male 
or  female,  married  or  single,  who  does  not  secretly  cher- 
ish the  amiable  belief  that  he  or  she  can  cook  things  on 
a  blazer  better  than  any  one  else.  And  yet  we  abstain 
from  criticism ;  we  offer  no  suggestions  ;  we  accept, 
without  a  murmur,  the  proportions  of  cheese  and  beer 
135 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

and  butter  inflicted  upon  us  by  our  hostess  and  her 
brother,  and  are  silent.  We  shall  even  become  compli- 
mentary later.  Can  the  Japanese  vie  with  this  ?  " 

The  contrast  between  his  eager,  grave  gaze,  and  the 
levity  of  his  words,  puzzled  Selma.  He  looked  inter- 
esting, but  his  speech  seemed  to  her  trivial  and  un- 
worthy of  the  occasion.  Still  she  appreciated  that  she 
must  not  be  a  spoil-sport,  and  that  it  was  incumbent  on 
her  to  resign  herself  to  the  situation,  so  she  smiled 
gayly,  and  said  :  "  I  am  the  only  one  then  not  suffering 
from  self-restraint.  I  never  made  a  Welsh  rabbit,  nor 
cooked  on  a  blazer."  Then,  in  her  desire  for  more  se- 
rious conversation,  she  added  :  "  Do  you  really  think 
that  we,  as  a  people,  are  less  polite  than  the  Japanese  ?  " 

The  doctor  regarded  her  with  solemn  interest  for  an 
instant,  as  though  he  were  pondering  the  question.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  he  was  thinking  that  she  was  remark- 
ably pretty.  Then  he  put  his  finger  on  his  lips,  and  in 
a  hoarse  whisper,  said,  "Sh!  Be  careful.  If  the  edi- 
torial ear  should  catch  your  proposition  the  editorial 
man  would  appropriate  it.  There  ! "  he  added,  as  her 
left-hand  neighbor  bent  toward  them  in  response  to  the 
summons,  "  he  has  heard,  and  your  opportunity  to  sell 
an  idea  to  the  magazine  is  lost.  It  is  all  very  fine  for 
him  to  protest  that  he  has  heard  nothing.  That  is  a 
trick  of  his  trade.  Let  us  see  now  if  he  will  agree  to 
buy.  If  he  refuses,  it  will  be  a  clear  case  that  he 
has  heard  and  purloined  it.  Come,  Dennison,  here's 
a  chance  for  a  ten  thousand-word  symposium  debate, 
'Are  we,  as  a  nation,  less  polite  than  the  Japanese  ?» 
We  offer  it  for  a  hundred  and  fifty  cash,  and  cheap  at 
the  price." 

Mr.  Dennison,  who  was  a  keen-eyed,  quiet  man,  with 
136 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

a  brown,  closely-cut  beard,  had  paused  in  his  occupa- 
tion of  buttering  hot  toast  for  the  impending  rabbit, 
and  was  smiling  quizzically.  "  If  you  have  literary 
secrets  to  dispose  of,  Mrs.  Littleton,  let  me  warn  you 
against  making  a  confidant  of  Dr.  Page.  Had  you 
spoken  to  me  first,  there  is  no  knowing  what  I  might 
have " 

"What  did  I  tell  you  ?"  broke  in  the  doctor.  "A 
one  hundred  and  fifty-dollar  idea  ruthlessly  appro- 
priated. These  editors,  these  editors  ! " 

It  was  tantalizing  to  Selma  to  be  skirting  the  edge  of 
themes  she  would  have  enjoyed  to  hear  treated  seriously. 
She  hoped  that  Mr.  Dennison  would  inquire  if  she 
really  wrote,  and  at  least  he  would  tell  her  something 
about  his  magazine  and  literary  life  in  New  York.  But 
he  took  up  again  his  task  of  buttering  toast,  and  sought 
to  interest  her  in  that.  Presently  she  was  unable  to 
resist  the  temptation  of  remarking  that  the  editorship 
of  a  magazine  must  be  one  of  the  most  interesting  of 
all  occupations  ;  but  he  looked  at  her  with  his  quizzical 
smile,  and  answered  : 

"  Between  you  and  me,  Mrs.  Littleton,  I  will  confide 
to  you  that  a  considerable  portion  of  the  time  it  is  a 
confounded  bore.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  much  prefer  to 
sit  next  to  you  and  butter  toast." 

This  was  depressing  and  puzzling  to  Selma  ;  but  after 
the  consumption  of  the  rabbit  and  the  oysters  there  was 
some  improvement  in  the  general  tone  of  the  conversa- 
tion. Yet,  not  so  far  as  she  was  concerned.  Mr.  Denni- 
son neglected  to  confide  to  her  the  secrets  of  his  prison 
house,  and  Dr.  Page  ruthlessly  refused  to  discuss  medi- 
cine, philosophy,  or  the  Japanese.  But  here  and  there 
allusion  was  made  by  one  or  another  of  the  company  to 
137 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

something  which  had  been  done  in  the  world  of 
letters,  or  art,  or  music,  which  possessed  merit  or  de- 
served discouragement.  What  was  said  was  uttered 
simply,  often  trenchantly  and  lightly,  but  never  as  a 
dogma,  or  with  the  solemnity  which  Mrs.  Earle  had 
been  wont  to  impart  to  her  opinions.  Just  as  the  party 
was  about  to  break  up,  Dr.  Page  approached  Sehna  and 
offered  her  his  hand.  "  It  is  a  great  pleasure  to  me  to 
have  met  you,"  he  said,  looking  into  her  face  with  his 
honest  eyes.  "  A  good  wife  was  just  what  Wilbur 
needed  to  insure  him  happiness  and  a  fine  career.  His 
friends  have  great  confidence  in  his  ability,  and  we  in- 
trust him  to  you  in  the  belief  that  the  world  will  hear 
from  him — and  I,  for  one,  shall  be  very  grateful  to  you." 

He  spoke  now  with  evident  feeling,  and  his  manner 
suggested  the  desire  to  be  her  friend.  Selma  admired 
his  large  physique  and  felt  the  attraction  of  his  search- 
ing gaze. 

"  Perhaps  he  did  need  a  wife,"  she  answered  with  an 
attempt  at  the  sprightliness  which  he  had  laid  aside. 
' '  I  shall  try  not  to  let  him  be  too  indifferent  to  prac- 
tical considerations." 


133 


CHAPTER   III. 

"Wno  is  Dr.  Page?"  asked  Selma  of  her  husband 
when  they  left  the  house. 

"  One  of  our  best  friends,  and  one  of  the  leading 
physicians  in  the  city.  The  energy  of  that  man  is  tire- 
less. He  is  absorbed  in  his  profession.  The  only 
respite  he  allows  himself  are  these  Saturday  evenings, 
and  his  devotion  to  his  little  son  who  has  hip  disease. 
He  told  me  to-night  that  he  had  finished  his  day's  work 
only  just  before  he  came  in.  What  did  you  think  of 
him  ?  He  likes  to  tease." 

"Then  he  is  married?" 

"  He  is  a  widower." 

"  He  seems  interested  in  you.  He  was  good  enough 
to  say  that  he  thought  you  needed  a  wife." 

"  Then  he  must  have  admired  you,  Selma.  Poor  fel- 
low !  I  wish  he  might  have  that  happiness  himself. 
I'll  tell  you  a  secret :  He  has  desired  to  marry  Pauline 
for  years.  They  are  devoted  friends — but  until  now 
that  is  all.  His  wife  was  an  actress — a  handsome 
creature.  Two  years  after  they  were  married  she  ran 
away  with  another  man  and  left  him.  Left  him  with 
one  little  boy,  a  cripple,  on  whom  he  lavishes  all  the 
love  of  his  big  nature." 

"  How  dreadful  ! " 

"Yes,  it  is  a  sad  story.  That  was  ten  years  ago. 
He  was  very  young  and  the  woman  was  very  beautiful. 
139 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

It  has  been  the  making  of  him,  though,  in  one  way. 
He  had  the  pride  and  confidence  of  ability,  but  he 
lacked  sympathy.  His  experience  and  the  appealing 
presence  of  his  son  have  developed  his  nature  and  given 
him  tenderness.  He  has  not  been  imbittered  ;  he  has 
simply  become  gentle.  And  how  he  works !  He  is 
already  famous  in  his  profession." 

"Does  Pauline  care  for  him  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  her  feelings.  I  am  sure  she  is  fond 
of  him,  and  admires  him.  I  fancy,  though,  that  she 
hesitates  to  renounce  her  own  ambitions.  As  you  are 
aware,  she  is  greatly  interested  in  her  classes,  and  in 
matters  pertaining  to  the  higher  education  of  women. 
George  Page  knew  her  at  the  time  of  his  marriage.  I 
do  not  mean  that  he  paid  her  serious  attention  then, 
but  he  had  the  opportunity  to  ask  her  instead  of  the 
other.  Now,  when  she  has  become  absorbed  in  her  life- 
work,  she  would  naturally  decline  to  give  it  up  unless 
she  felt  sure  that  she  could  not  be  happy  without  him." 

"I  would  not  marry  him  if  I  were  she/'  said  Selma 
"  He  has  given  his  best  to  the  other  woman.  He  is  the 
one  at  fault,  not  Pauline.  Why  should  she  sacrifice  her 
own  career  in  order  to  console  him  ?  " 

"  She  might  love  him  sufficiently  to  be  willing  to 
do  so,  Selma.  Love  makes  women  blind  to  faults.  But 
poor  George  was  scarcely  at  fault  It  was  a  mis- 
fortune." 

"  He  made  his  choice  and  was  deceived.  It  would  be 
weak  of  her  to  give  up  her  own  life  merely  because  he  is 
lonely.  We  modern  women  have  too  much  self-respect 
for  that.  Love  is  love,  and  it  is  not  to  be  trifled  with." 

"Yes,  love  is  love,"  murmured  Littleton,  "and  I  am 
happy  in  mine." 

140 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"  That  is  because  neither  of  us  has  loved  before,  you 
foolish  boy.  But  as  to  this  evening,  it  wasn't  at  all 
what  I  expected.  Are  your  friends  always  like  that  ?  " 

Littleton  laughed.  "  Did  they  seem  to  you  frivolous 
and  undignified,  then  ?  " 

"  Almost.     They  certainly  said  nothing  serious." 

"It  is  their  holiday — their  evening  out.  They  have 
to  be  serious  during  the  rest  of  the  week — busy  with 
problems  and  cares,  for  they  are  a  set  of  hard  workers. 
The  stress  of  life  is  so  rigorous  and  constant  here  in  New 
York  that  we  have  learned  not  to  take  our  pleasure 
sadly.  When  you  become  accustomed  to  their  way  you 
will  realize  that  they  are  no  less  serious  at  heart  because 
they  frolic  now  and  then." 

Selma  was  silent  a  moment ;  then  she  said,  f '  That 
reminds  me ;  have  you  found  out  about  our  next-door 
neighbors  yet  ?" 

"  He  is  a  banker  named  Williams,  I  believe/' 

"  I  saw  his  wife  pass  the  window  this  morning.  She 
was  beautifully  dressed.  They  must  be  rich." 

"  I  dare  say." 

"But  they  live  in  the  same  style  of  house  as  ours." 

"  Bankers  have  mysterious  ways  of  making  money. 
We  cannot  compete  with  those." 

"  I  suppose  not.  I  was  thinking  that  she  had  the 
same  manner  as  some  of  your  friends  this  evening,  only 
more  pronounced.  She  stopped  to  speak  to  some  one 
just  in  front  of  the  house,  so  I  could  observe  her.  I 
should  think  she  was  frivolous,  but  fascinating.  That 
must  be  the  New  York  manner,  and,  consequently,  she 
may  be  very  much  in  earnest." 

"  It  isn't  given  to  every  woman  to  be  attractive  all 
the  time  just  because  she  looks  in  earnest,  as  it  is  to 
HI 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

you,  dearest.  But  you  musn't  be  too  severe  on  the 
others. " 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  think  I  shall  like  Mrs.  Will- 
iams. She  may  teach  us  to  be  practical.  You  know 
that  is  what  your  friends  would  like  to  have  me  help 
you  to  be,  Wilbur." 

"  Then  they  did  talk  a  word  or  two  of  sense  ?" 

"  They  said  that.  Do  you  think  it  is  true  that  yon 
are  visionary  ?" 

"  It  is  your  duty  to  tell  me  so,  Selma,  when  yon  think 
it,  just  as  I  have  told  you  that  we  can  afford  to  laugh 
now  and  then.  Come,  begin." 

"  I  haven't  been  your  wife  long  enough  yet.  I  shall 
know  better  by  the  end  of  another  six  months." 

A  fortnight  elapsed  before  Selma  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  Mrs.  Gregory  Williams.  It  was  not  a 
chance  meeting.  Flossy  rang  the  bell  deliberately  one 
afternoon  and  was  ushered  in,  thereby  bridging  over 
summarily  the  yawning  chasm  which  may  continue  to 
exist  for  an  indefinite  period  between  families  in  the 
same  block  who  are  waiting  to  be  introduced. 

"  I  said  to  my  husband  last  night,  Mrs.  Littleton,  that 
it  was  ridiculous  for  us  to  be  living  side  by  side  without 
knowing  one  another,  and  that  I  was  going  to  call.  We 
moved  in  three  weeks  before  yon,  so  I'm  the  one  who 
ought  to  break  the  ice.  Otherwise  we  might  have  stared 
at  each  other  blankly  for  three  months,  looked  at  each 
other  sheepishly  out  of  the  corner  of  our  eyes  for  an- 
other three,  half  bowed  for  six  months,  and  finally,  per- 
haps, reached  the  stage  where  we  are  now.  Neighbors 
should  be  neighborly,  don't  you  think  so  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  do.  Of  course  I  knew  you  by  sight ;  and 
I  felt  I  should  like  to  make  your  acquaintance."  Selma 
142 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

spoke  with  enthusiasm.  Here  was  some  one  whose  so- 
cial deftness  was  no  less  marked  than  Mrs.  Hallett  Tay- 
lor's, and,  to  her  mind,  more  brilliant,  yet  whom  she  felt 
at  once  to  be  congenial.  Though  she  perceived  that  her 
neighbor's  clothes  made  her  own  apparel  seem  dull,  and 
was  accordingly  disposed  to  be  on  her  guard,  she  real- 
ized instinctively  that  she  was  attracted  by  the  visitor. 

"  That  is  very  nice  of  you,"  said  Flossy.  "  I  told  my 
husband — Gregory — the  other  day  that  I  was  sure  you 
were  something  literary — I  mean  Mr.  Littleton,  of 
course — and  when  he  found  out  that  he  was  I  said  we 
must  certainly  cultivate  you  as  an  antidote  to  the  bank- 
ing business.  Gregory's  a  banker.  It  must  be  delight- 
ful to  plan  houses.  This  room  is  so  pretty  and  taste- 
ful." 

"  It  isn't  wholly  furnished  yet.  We  are  buying  things 
by  degrees,  as  we  find  pieces  which  we  like." 

"  We  bought  all  our  things  in  two  days  at  one  fell 
swoop,"  said  Flossy  with  a  gay  laugh.  "  Gregory  gave 
the  dealers  carte  blanche.  That's  his  way,"  she  added 
with  a  touch  of  pride.  "  I  dare  say  the  house  would 
have  been  prettier  if  we  could  have  taken  more  time. 
However,  it  is  all  paid  for  now.  Some  of  it  was  bought 
on  the  instalment  plan,  but  Gregory  bought  or  sold 
something  in  stocks  the  next  week  which  covered  the 
furniture  and  paid  for  a  present  for  me  of  this  besides," 
she  said,  indicating  her  seal-skin  cape.  "  Wasn't  he  a 
dear?" 

Selma  did  not  know  precisely  what  the  instalment 
plan  was,  but  she  understood  that  Mr.  Williams  had 
been  distinctly  clever  in  his  wife's  estimation.  She  per- 
ceived that  Mrs.  Williams  had  the  same  light,  half  jocu- 
lar manner  displayed  by  Wilbur's  friends,  and  that  ghe 
143 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

spoke  with  bubbling,  jaunty  assurance,  which  was  sug- 
gestive of  frivolity.  Still  Wilbur  had  intimated  that 
this  might  be  the  New  York  manner,  and  clearly  her 
neighbor  had  come  in  a  friendly  spirit  and  was  duly  ap- 
preciative of  the  distinction  of  being  literary.  Besides, 
her  ready  disposition  to  talk  about  herself  and  her 
affairs  seemed  to  Selma  the  sign  of  a  willingness  to  be 
truly  friendly.  The  seal-skin  cape  she  wore  was  very 
handsome,  and  she  was  more  conspicuouly  attired  from 
head  to  foot  than  any  woman  with  whom  Selma  had 
ever  conversed.  She  was  pretty,  too — a  type  of  beauty 
less  spiritual  than  her  own — with  piquant,  eager  feat- 
ures, and  laughing,  restless  gray  eyes.  Her  hair  es- 
caped from  her  coquettish  bonnet  in  airy  ringlets.  If 
they  had  met  three  years  earlier  Selma  would  certainly 
have  regarded  her  as  an  incarnation  of  volatility  and 
servility  to  foreign  fashions.  Now,  though  she  classed 
her  promptly  as  a  frivolous  person,  she  regarded  her 
with  a  keen  curiosity  not  unmixed  with  self-distress, 
and  the  reflection  came  to  her  that  a  little  of  the  New 
York  manner  might  perhaps  be  desirable  when  in  New 
York. 

"  Yes,  it's  beautiful,"  she  replied,  referring  to  the 
cape. 

"  Gregory  is  always  making  me  presents  like  that. 
He  gave  me  this  bracelet  yesterday.  He  saw  it  in  the 
shop-window  and  went  in  and  bought  it.  Speaking  of 
husbands,  you  won't  mind  my  saying  that  I  think  Mr. 
Littleton  is  very  distinguished  looking  ?  I  often  see 
him  pass  the  window  in  the  morning." 

"  Of  course  /  think  so,"  said  Selma.     "  I  suppose  it 
would  seem  flat  if  I  were  to  say  that  I  admired  Mr 
Willianu's  appearance  also." 
144 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"  The  truth  is  no  harm.  Wouldn't  it  be  nice  if  we 
should  happen  to  become  friends  ?  We  are  the  pioneers 
in  this  block,  but  I  hear  three  other  houses  have  been 
sold.  I  suppose  you  own  your  house  ?  " 

"  I  believe  not.     We  have  a  lease  of  it." 

"  That's  a  pity,  because  Gregory  bought  ours  on  a 
mortgage,  thinking  the  land  is  sure  to  become  more 
valuable.  He  hopes  to  be  able  to  sell  some  day  for  a 
great  deal  more  than  he  paid  for  it.  May  I  ask  where 
you  lived  before  you  were  married  ?" 

Selma  told  her  briefly. 

"  Then  you  are  almost  Western.  I  felt  sure  you 
weren't  a  New  Yorker,  and  I  didn't  think  you  were  from 
Boston.  You  have  the  Boston  earnest  expression,  but 
somehow  you're  different.  You  don't  mind  my  analyz- 
ing you,  do  you  ?  That's  a  Boston  habit  by  the  way. 
But  I'm  not  from  Boston.  I've  lived  all  my  life  in  New 
Jersey.  So  we  are  both  strangers  in  New  York.  That 
is,  I'm  the  same  as  a  stranger,  though  my  father  is  a 
cousin  of  the  Morton  Prices.  We  sent  them  wedding 
cards  and  they  called  one  day  when  I  was  out.  I  shall 
return  the  call  and  find  them  out,  and  that  will  be  the 
last  move  on  either  side  until  Gregory  does  something 
remarkable.  I'm  rather  glad  I  wasn't  at  home,  because 
it  would  have  been  awkward.  They  wouldn't  have 
known  what  to  say  to  me,  and  they  might  have  felt  that 
they  ought  to  ask  me  to  dinner,  and  I  don't  care  to  have 
them  ask  me  until  they're  obliged  to.  Do  I  shock  you 
running  on  so  about  my  own  affairs  ? "  Flossy  asked, 
noticing  Selma  draw  herself  up  sternly. 

"  Oh  no,  I  like  that.  I  was  only  thinking  that  it  was 
very  strange  of  your  cousins.  You  are  as  good  as  they, 
aren't  you  ?  " 

145 


UNLEAVENED  BKEAD 

"  Mercy,  no.  We  both  know  it,  and  that's  what  makes 
the  situation  so  awkward.  As  Christians,  they  had  to 
call  on  me,  but  I  really  think  they  are  justified  in  stop- 
ping there.  Socially  I'm  nobody." 

"  In  this  country  we  are  all  free  and  equal." 

"  You're  a  dear — a  delicious  dear,"  retorted  Flossy, 
with  a  caressing  laugh.  "  There's  something  of  the  sort 
in  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  but,  as  Gregory 
says,  that  was  put  in  as  a  bluff  to  console  salesladies. 
Was  everybody  equal  in  Benham,  Mrs.  Littleton  ?  v 

"  Practically  so,"  said  Selma,  with  an  air  of  haughti- 
ness, which  was  evoked  by  her  recollection  of  the  group 
of  houses  on  Benham's  Kiver  Drive  into  which  she  had 
never  been  invited.  "  There  were  some  people  who 
were  richer  than  others,  but  that  didn't  make  them  bet- 
ter than  any  one  else." 

"  Well,  in  New  York  it's  different.  Of  course,  every 
body  has  the  same  right  to  vote  or  to  be  elected  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States,  but  equality  ends  there. 
People  here  are  either  in  society  or  out  of  it,  and  society 
itself  is  divided  into  sets.  There's  the  conservative 
aristocratic  set,  the  smart  rapid  set,  the  set  which  hasn't 
much  money,  but  has  Knickerbocker  or  other  highly 
respectable  ancestors,  the  new  millionaire  set,  the  liter- 
ary set,  the  intellectual  philanthropic  set,  and  so  on, 
according  to  one's  means  or  tastes.  Each  has  its  little 
circle  which  shades  away  into  the  others,  and  every  now 
and  then  there  is  a  big  entertainment  to  which  they  all 
go." 

"I  see,"  said  Selma,  coldly. 

"Now,  to  make  it  plain,  I  will  confide  to  you  in 
strictest  confidence  that  Gregory  and  I  aren't  yet  really 
in  any  set.  We  are  trying  to  get  a  footing  and  are  hold- 
US 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

ing  on  by  our  teeth  to  the  fringe  of  the  social  merry-go- 
round.  I  wouldn't  admit  it  to  any  one  but  you  ;  but  as 
you  are  a  stranger  like  myself  and  in  the  same  block,  I 
am  glad  to  initiate  you  into  the  customs  of  this  part  of 
the  country. "  Flossy  gave  a  merry  toss  to  her  head 
which  set  her  ringlets  bobbing,  and  rose  to  go. 

"And  in  what  set  are  your  cousins  ?"  asked  Selma. 

"  If  you  wish  to  hear  about  them,  I  shall  have  to  sit 
down  again.  The  Morton-Prices  belong  to  the  ultra- 
conservative,  solid,  stupid,  aristocratic  set — the  most 
dignified  and  august  of  all.  They  are  almost  as  sacred 
as  Hindoo  gods,  and  some  people  would  walk  over  red- 
hot  coals  to  gain  admission  to  their  house.  And  really, 
it's  quite  just  in  one  way  that  incense  should  be  burnt 
before  them.  You  mustn't  look  so  disgusted,  because 
there's  some  sense  in  it  all.  As  Gregory  says,  it's  best 
to  look  things  squarely  in  the  face.  Most  of  the  people 
in  these  different  sets  are  somebodies  because  either 
their  grandfathers  or  they  have  done  something  well — 
better  than  other  people,  and  made  money  as  a  conse- 
quence. And  when  a  family  has  made  money  or  won 
distinction  by  its  brains  and  then  has  brushed  its  teeth 
twice  a  day  religiously  for  two  generations,  the  members 
of  it,  even  though  dull,  are  entitled  to  respect,  don't 
you  think  so  ?  " 

Selma,  who  brushed  her  teeth  but  once  a  day,  looked 
a  little  sharp  at  Flossy. 

"It  makes  money  of  too  much  importance  and  it 
establishes  class  distinctions.  I  don't  approve  of  such  a 
condition  of  affairs  at  all." 

Flossy  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  I  have  never  thought 
whether  I  approve  of  it  or  not.  I  am  only  telling  you 
what  exists.  I  don't  deny  that  money  counts  for  a  great 
147 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

deal,  for,  as  Gregory  says,  money  is  the  measure  of  suc- 
cess. But  money  isn't  everything.  Brains  count  and 
refinement,  and  nice  honorable  ways  of  looking  at  things. 
Of  course,  I'm  only  telling  you  what  my  ambition  is. 
People  have  different  kinds  of  bees  in  their  bonnets. 
Some  men  have  the  presidential  bee;  I  have  the  social 
bee.  I  should  like  to  be  recognized  as  a  prominent 
member  of  the  charmed  circle  on  my  own  merits  and 
show  my  cousins  that  I  am  really  worthy  of  their  atten- 
tion. There  are  a  few  who  are  able  to  be  superior  to 
that  sort  of  thing,  who  go  on  living  their  own  lives  at- 
tractively and  finely,  without  thinking  of  society,  and 
who  suddenly  wake  up  some  day  to  find  themselves 
socially  famous — to  find  that  they  have  been  taken  up. 
That's  the  best  way,  but  one  requires  to  be  the  right 
sort  of  person  and  to  have  a  lot  of  moral  courage.  I 
can  imagine  it  happening  to  you  and  your  husband. 
But  it  would  never  happen  to  Gregory  and  me.  We 
shall  have  to  make  money  and  cut  a  dash  in  order  to 
attract  attention,  and  by-and-by,  if  we  are  persistent  and 
clever  enough,  we  may  be  recognized  as  somebodies,  pro- 
vided there  is  something  original  or  interesting  about  us. 
There  !  I  have  told  you  my  secret  and  shocked  you  into 
the  bargain.  I  really  must  be  going.  But  I'll  tell  you 
another  secret  first :  It'll  be  a  pleasure  to  me  to  see  you, 
if  I  may,  because  yon  look  at  things  differently  and 
haven't  a  social  bee.  I  wish  I  were  like  that — really 
like  it.  But  then,  as  Gregory  would  say,  I  shouldn't  be 
myself,  and  not  to  be  one's  self  is  worse  than  anything 
else  after  all,  isn't  it  ?  You  and  your  husband  must 
come  and  dine  with  us  soon." 

After  Mrs.  Williams  had  gone,  Selma  fell   into  a 
brown  study.     She  had  listened  to  sentiments  of  which 
148 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

she  thoroughly  disapproved,  and  which  were  at  variance 
with  all  her  theories  and  conceptions.  What  her  friendly, 
frivolous  visitor  had  told  her  with  engaging  frankness 
offended  her  conscience  and  patriotism.  She  did  not 
choose  to  admit  the  existence  of  these  class-distinctions, 
and  she  knew  that  even  if  they  did  exist,  they  could  not 
possibly  concern  Wilbur  and  herself.  Even  Mrs.  Will- 
iams had  appreciated  that  Wilbur  and  her  literary 
superiority  put  them  above  and  beyond  the  application 
of  any  snobbish,  artificial,  social  measuring-tape.  And 
yet  Selma's  brow  was  clouded.  Her  thought  reverted 
to  the  row  of  stately  houses  on  either  side  of  Fifth 
Avenue,  into  none  of  which  she  had  the  right  of  free 
access,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  was  leading  her  life 
attractively  and  finely,  without  regard  to  society.  She 
thought  instinctively  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  and  she 
saw  righteously  with  her  mind's  eye  for  a  moment  an 
angel  with  a  flaming  sword  consigning  to  destruction 
these  offending  mansions  and  their  owners  as  symbols  of 
mammon  and  contraband  to  God. 

That  evening  she  told  Wilbur  of  Mrs.  Williams's 
visit.  "  She's  a  bright,  amusing  person,  and  quite 
pretty.  We  took  a  fancy  to  each  other.  But  what  do 
you  suppose  she  said  ?  She  intimated  that  we  haven't 
any  social  position. " 

"  Very  kind  of  her,  I'm  sure.  She  must  be  a  woman 
of  discrimination — likewise  something  of  a,  character." 

"  She's  smart.     So  you  think  it's  true  ?/^ 

"  What  ?  About  our  social  position  ?  Ours  is  as 
good  as  theirs,  I  fancy." 

"Qh  yes,  Wilbur.  She  acknowledges  that  herself. 
She  admires  us  both  and  she  thinks  it  fine  that  we  don't 
care  for  that  sort  of  thing.  What  she  said  was  chiefly 
149 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

in  connection  with  herself,  but  she  intimated  that 
neither  they,  nor  we,  are  the— er — equals  of  the  people 
who  live  on  Fifth  Avenue  and  thereabouts.  She's  a 
cousin  of  the  Morton  Prices,  whoever  they  may  be,  and 
she  declared  perfectly  frankly  that  they  were  better  than 
she.  Wasn't  it  funny  ?" 

"  You  seem  to  have  made  considerable  progress  for 
one  visit." 

"  I  like  that,  you  know,  Wilbur.  I  prefer  people  who 
are  willing  to  tell  me  their  real  feelings  at  once." 

"  Morton  Price  is  one  of  the  big  bugs.  His  great 
grandfather  was  among  the  wise,  shrewd  pioneers  in  the 
commercial  progress  of  the  city.  The  present  genera- 
tion are  eminently  respectable,  very  dignified,  mildly 
philanthropic,  somewhat  self-indulgent,  reasonably 
harmless,  decidedly  ornamental  and  rather  dull." 

"  But  Mrs.  Williams  says  that  she  will  never  be  happy 
until  her  relations  and  the  people  of  that  set  are  obliged 
to  take  notice  of  her,  and  that  she  and  her  husband  are 
going  to  cut  a  dash  to  attract  attention.  It's  her 
secret." 

"  The  cat  which  she  let  out  of  the  bag  is  a  familiar 
one.  She  must  be  amusing,  provided  she  is  not  vulgar." 

"  I  don't  think  she's  vulgar,  Wilbur.  She  wears 
gorgeous  clothes,  but  they're  extremely  pretty.  She 
said  that  she  called  on  me  because  she  thought  that  we 
were  literary,  and  that  she  desired  an  antidote  to  the 
banker's  business,  which  shows  she  isn't  altogether 
worldly.  She  wishes  us  to  dine  with  them  soon." 

"  That's  neighborly." 

"  Why  was  it,  Wilbur,  that  you  didn't  buy  our  hous 
instead  of  hiring  it  ?" 

"Because  I  hadn't  money  enough  to  pay  for  it* 
150 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"  The  Williamses  bought  theirs.  But  I  don't  believe 
they  paid  for  it  altogether.  She  says  her  husband 
thinks  the  land  will  increase  in  value^  and  they  hope 
some  day  to  make  money  by  the  rise.  I  imagine  Mr. 
Williams  must  be  shrewd." 

"He's  a  business  man.  Probably  he  bought,  and 
gave  a  mortgage  back.  I  might  have  done  that,  but  we 
weren't  sure  we  should  like  the  location,  and  it  isn't 
certain  yet  that  fashion  will  move  in  just  this  direction. 
I  have  very  little,  and  I  preferred  not  to  tie  up 
everything  in  a  house  we  might  not  wish  to  keep." 

"I  see.  She  appreciates  that  people  may  take  us  up 
any  time.  She  thinks  you  are  distinguished  looking." 

"  If  she  isn't  careful,  I  shall  make  you  jealous,  Selma. 
Was  there  anything  you  didn't  discuss  ?" 

"  I  regard  yon  as  the  peer  of  any  Morton  Price  alive. 
Why  aren't  you  ?  " 

"  Far  be  it  from  me  to  discourage  such  a  wifely  con- 
clusion. Provided  you  think  so,  I  don't  care  for  any 
one  else's  opinion." 

"  But  you  agree  with  her.  That  is,  you  consider  be- 
cause people  of  that  sort  don't  invite  us  to  their  houses, 
they  are  better  than  we." 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind.  But  there's  no  use  denying 
the  existence  of  social  classes  in  this  city,  and  that, 
though  I  flatter  myself  you  and  I  are  trying  to  make 
the  most  of  our  lives  in  accordance  with  the  talents  and 
means  at  our  disposal,  we  are  not  and  are  not  likely  to 
become,  for  the  present  at  any  rate,  socially  prominent. 
That's  what  you  have  in  mind,  I  think.  I  don't  know 
those  people  ;  they  don't  know  me.  Consequently  they 
do  not  ask  me  to  their  beautiful  and  costly  entertain- 
ments. Some  day,  perhaps,  if  I  am  very  successful  as 
151 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

an  architect,  we  may  come  more  in  contact  with  them, 
and  they  will  have  a  chance  to  discover  what  a  charming 
wife  I  have.  Bnt  from  the  point  of  view  of  society, 
your  neighbor  Mrs.  Williams  is  right.  She  evidently 
has  a  clear  head  on  her  shoulders  and  knows  what  she 
desires.  You  and  I  believe  that  we  can  get  more  happi- 
ness out  of  life  by  pursuing  the  even  tenor  of  our  way 
in  the  position  in  which  we  happen  to  find  ourselves. " 

"  I  don't  understand  it,"  said  Selma,  shaking  her  head 
and  looking  into  space  with  her  spiritual  expression. 
"  It  troubles  me.  It  isn't  American.  I  didn't  think 
such  distinctions  existed  in  this  country.  Is  it  all  a 
question  of  money,  then  ?  Do  intelligence  and — er — 
purpose  count  for  nothing  ?  " 

"  My  dear  girl,  it  simply  means  that  the  people  who  are 
on  top — the  people  who,  by  force  of  success,  or  ability,  or 
money,  are  most  prominent  in  the  community,  associate 
together,  and  the  world  gives  a  certain  prominence  to 
their  doings.  Here,  where  fortunes  have  been  made  so 
rapidly,  and  we  have  no  formal  aristocracy,  money  un- 
doubtedly plays  a  conspicuous  part  in  giving  access  to 
what  is  known  as  society.  Bnt  it  is  only  an  entering 
wedge.  Money  supplies  the  means  to  cultivate  man- 
ners and  the  right  way  of  looking  at  things,  and  good 
society  represents  the  best  manners  and,  on  the  whole, 
the  best  way  of  looking  at  things." 

"  Yes.     But  you  say  that  we  don't  belong  to  it" 

"  We  do  in  the  broad,  but  not  in  the  narrow  sense. 
We  have  neither  the  means  nor  the  time  to  take  part  in 
fashionable  society.  Surely,  Selma,  you  have  no  such 
ambition  ?  " 

"  I  ?  You  know  I  disapprove  of  everything  of  the 
•ort.  It  is  like  Europe.  There's  nothing  American  in  it." 
152 


UNLEAVENED  BKEAD 

"  I  don't  know  about  that.  The  people  concerned  in 
it  are  Americans.  If  a  man  has  made  money  there  is 
no  reason  why  he  shouldn't  build  a  handsome  house, 
maintain  a  fine  establishment,  give  his  children  the  best 
educational  advantages,  and  choose  his  own  friends.  So 
the  next  generation  becomes  more  civilized.  It  isn't 
the  best  Americanism  to  waste  one's  time  in  pursuing 
frivolities  and  excessive  luxury,  as  some  of  these  people 
do  ;  but  there's  nothing  un-American  in  making  the 
most  of  one's  opportunities.  As  I've  said  to  you  before, 
Selma,  it's  the  way  in  which  one  rises  that's  the  im- 
portant thing  in  the  individual  equation,  and  every  man 
must  choose  for  himself  what  that  shall  be.  My  ambi- 
tion is  to  excel  in  my  profession,  and  to  mould  my  life 
to  that  end  without  neglecting  my  duties  as  a  citizen  or 
a  husband.  If,  in  the  end,  I  win  fame  and  fortune,  so 
much  the  better.  But  there's  no  use  in  worrying  be- 
cause other  people  are  more  fashionable  than  we." 

"  Of  course.  You  speak  as  if  you  thought  I  was 
envious  of  them,  Wilbur.  What  I  don't  understand 
is  why  such  people  should  be  allowed  to  exist  in  thia 
country." 

"  We're  a  free  people,  Selma.  I'm  a  good  democrat, 
but  you  must  agree  that  the  day-laborer  in  his  muddy 
garb  would  not  find  himself  at  ease  in  a  Fifth  Avenue 
drawing-room.  On  that  account  shall  we  abolish  the 
drawing-room  ?  " 

"  We  are  not  day -laborers." 

"  Not  precisely  ;  but  we  have  our  spurs  to  win.  And, 
unlike  some  people  in  our  respectable,  but  humble  sta- 
tion, we  have  each  other's  love  to  give  us  courage  to  fight 
the  battle  of  life  bravely.  I  had  a  fresh  order  to-day— 
and  I  have  bought  tickets  for  to-night  at  the  theatre." 
153 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ALMOST  the  first  persons  at  the  theatre  on  whom 
Selina's  eyes  rested  were  the  Gregory  Williamses.  They 
were  in  a  box  with  two  other  people,  and  both  Flossy 
and  her  husband  were  talking  with  the  festive  air  pe- 
culiar to  those  who  are  willing  to  be  noticed  and  con- 
scious that  their  wish  is  being  gratified.  Flossy  wore  a 
gay  bonnet  and  a  stylish  frock,  supplemented  by  a  huge 
bunch  of  violets,  and  her  husband's  evening  dress  be- 
trayed a  slight  exaggeration  of  the  prevailing  fashion  in 
respect  to  his  standing  collar  and  necktie.  Selma  had 
never  had  a  thorough  look  at  him  before,  and  she  re- 
flected that  he  was  decidedly  impressive  and  hand- 
some. His  face  was  full  and  pleasant,  his  mustache 
large  and  gracefully  curved,  and  his  figure  manly.  His 
most  distinguishing  characteristic  was  a  dignity  of  bear- 
ing uncommon  in  so  young  a  man,  suggesting  that  he 
carried,  if  not  the  destiny  of  republics  on  his  shoulders, 
at  least,  important  financial  secrets  in  his  brain.  The 
man  and  woman  with  them  were  almost  elderly  and 
gave  the  effect  of  being  strangers  to  the  city.  They 
were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Silas  S.  Parsons.  Mr.  Parsons  was  a 
prosperous  Western  business  man,  who  now  and  then 
visited  New  York,  and  who  had  recently  become  a  cus- 
tomer of  Williams's.  He  had  dealt  in  the  office  where 
Williams  was  a  clerk,  and,  having  taken  a  fancy  to  him, 
was  disposed  to  help  the  new  firm.  Gregory  had  in- 
154 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

vited  them  to  dinner  and  to  the  theatre,  by  way  of  being 
attentive,  and  had  taken  a  box  instead  of  stalls,  in  order 
to  make  his  civility  as  magnificent  as  the  occasion  would 
permit.  A  box,  besides  being  a  delicate  testimonial  to 
his  guest,  would  cause  the  audience  to  notice  him  and 
his  wife  and  to  ask  who  they  were. 

In  the  gradual  development  of  the  social  appetite 
in  this  country  a  certain  class  has  been  evolved  whose 
drawing-room  is  the  floor  of  the  leading  theatres.  So- 
ciety consists  for  them  chiefly  in  being  present  often  at 
theatrical  performances  in  sumptuous  dress,  not  merely 
to  witness  the  play,  but  to  be  participants  in  a  social 
function  which  enhances  their  self-esteem.  To  be  looked 
at  and  to  look  on  these  occasions  takes  the  place  with 
them  of  balls  and  dinner  parties.  They  are  not  theatre- 
goers in  the  proper  sense,  but  social  aspirants,  and 
the  boxes  and  stalls  are  for  them  an  arena  in  which 
for  a  price  they  can  show  themselves  in  their  finery  and 
attractions,  for  lack  of  other  opportunities. 

Our  theatres  are  now  in  the  full  blaze  of  this  harmless 
appropriation  for  quasi-ballroom  uses.  At  the  time 
when  Selma  was  a  New  York  bride  the  movement  was  in 
its  infancy.  The  people  who  went  to  the  theatre  for 
spectacular  purposes  no  less  than  to  see  the  actors  on 
the  stage  were  comparatively  few  in  number.  Still  the 
device  was  practised,  and  from  the  very  fact  that  it  was 
not  freely  employed,  was  apt  to  dazzle  the  eyes  of  the 
uninitiated  public  more  unreservedly  than  to-day.  The 
sight  of  Mrs.  Williams  in  a  box,  in  the  glory  of  her  be- 
coming frock  and  her  violets,  caused  even  so  stern  a 
patriot  and  admirer  of  simplicity  as  Selma  to  seize  her 
husband's  arm  and  whisper  : 

"  Look/'  What  is  more  she  caught  herself  a  moment 
155 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

later  blushing  with  satisfaction  on  account  of  the  friend- 
ly bow  which  was  bestowed  on  her. 

Wilbur  Littleton's  ambitions  were  so  definite  and  con- 
genial that  the  sight  of  his  neighbors'  splendor  neither 
offended  nor  irritated  him.  He  did  not  feel  obliged  to 
pass  judgment  on  them  while  deriving  amusement  from 
their  display,  nor  did  he  experience  any  qualms  of  re- 
gret that  he  was  not  able  to  imitate  them.  He  regarded 
Flossy  and  her  husband  with  the  tolerant  gaze  of  one 
content  to  allow  other  people  to  work  out  their  salvation 
without  officious  criticism,  provided  he  were  allowed 
the  same  privilege,  and  ready  to  enjoy  any  features  of 
the  situation  which  appealed  to  his  sense  of  humor  or 
to  his  human  sympathy.  Flossy's  frank,  open  nod  and 
ingenuous  face  won  his  favor  at  once,  especially  as  he 
appreciated  that  she  and  Selma  had  found  each  other 
attractive,  and  though  he  tabooed  luxury  and  fashion- 
able paraphernalia  where  he  was  immediately  concerned, 
it  occurred  to  him  that  this  evidently  wide-awake, 
vivacious-looking  couple  might,  as  friends,  introduce  just 
the  right  element  of  variety  into  their  lives.  He  had 
no  wish  to  be  a  banker  himself,  nor  to  hire  boxes  at  the 
theatre,  but  he  was  disposed  to  meet  half-way  these 
entertaining  and  gorgeous  neighbors. 

Selma,  in  spite  of  her  wish  to  watch  the  play,  found 
her  glance  returning  again  and  again  to  the  occupants 
of  the  box,  though  she  endeavored  to  dispose  of  the 
matter  by  remarking  presently  that  she  could  not  un- 
derstand why  people  should  care  to  make  themselves  so 
conspicuous,  particularly  as  the  seats  in  the  boxes  were 
teas  desirable  for  seeing  the  stage  than  their  own. 

"We  wouldn't  care  for  it,  but  probably  it's  just  what 
they  like,"  said  Wilbur.  "  Some  society  reporter  may 
156 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

notice  them  ;  in  which  case  we  shall  see  in  the  Sunday 
newspaper  that  Mr.  Gregory  Williams  and  party  occu- 
pied  a  private  box  at  the  Empire  Theatre  last  Tuesday 
evening,  which  will  be  another  straw  toward  helping 
them  to  carry  out  their  project  of  attracting  attention. 
I  like  the  face  of  your  new  friend,  my  dear.  I  mean  to 
say  that  she  looks  unaffected  and  honest,  and  as  if  she 
had  a  sense  of  humor.  With  those  three  virtues  a 
woman  can  afford  to  have  some  faults.  I  suppose  she 
has  hers/* 

Littleton  felt  that  Selma  was  disposed  to  fancy  her 
neighbor,  but  was  restrained  by  conscientious  scruples 
due  to  her  dislike  for  society  concerns.  He  had  fallen 
in  love  with  and  married  his  wife  because  he  believed 
her  to  be  free  from  and  superior  to  the  petty  weaknesses 
of  the  feminine  social  creed  ;  but  though  extremely 
proud  of  her  uncompromising  standards,  he  had  begun 
to  fear  lest  she  might  indulge  her  point  of  view  so  far  as 
to  be  unjust.  Her  scornful  references  from  time  to 
time  to  those  who  had  made  money  and  occupied  fine 
houses  had  wounded  his  own  sense  of  justice.  He  had 
endeavored  to  explain  that  virtue  was  not  the  exclusive 
prerogative  of  the  noble-minded  poor,  and  now  he  wel- 
comed an  opportunity  of  letting  her  realize  from  per- 
sonal experience  that  society  was  not  so  bad  as  it  was 
painted. 

Selma  returned  Mrs.  Williams's  call  during  the  week, 
but  did  not  find  her  at  home.  A  few  days  later  arrived 
a  note  stamped  with  a  purple  and  gold  monogram  invit- 
ing them  to  dinner.  When  the  evening  arrived  they 
found  only  a  party  of  four.  A  third  couple  had  given 
out  at  the  last  minute,  so  they  were  alone  with  their 
hosts.  The  Williams  house  in  its  decoration  and  up- 
157 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

holstery  was  very  different  from  their  own.  The  draw- 
ing-room was  bright  with  color.  The  furniture  was 
covered  with  light  blue  plush ;  there  were  blue  and 
yellow  curtains,  gay  cushions,  and  a  profusion  of  gilt 
ornamentation.  A  bear-skin,  a  show  picture  on  an 
easel,  and  a  variety  of  florid  bric-a-brac  completed  the 
brilliant  aspect  of  the  apartment.  Selma  reflected  at 
once  that  that  this  was  the  sort  of  drawing-room  which 
would  have  pleased  her  had  she  been  given  her  head  and 
a  full  purse.  It  suggested  her  home  at  Benham  refur- 
nished by  the  light  of  her  later  experience  undimmed  by 
the  shadow  of  economy.  On  the  way  down  to  dinner 
she  noticed  in  the  corner  of  the  hall  a  suit  of  old  armor, 
and  she  was  able  to  perceive  that  the  little  room  on  one 
side  of  the  front  door,  which  they  learned  subsequently 
was  Mr.  Williams's  den,  contained  Japanese  curiosities. 
The  dinner-table  shone  with  glass  and  silver  ware,  and 
was  lighted  by  four  candles  screened  by  small  pink 
shades.  By  the  side  of  Flossy's  plate  and  her  own  was 
a  small  bunch  of  violets,  and  there  was  a  rosebud  for 
each  of  the  men.  The  dinner,  which  was  elaborate, 
was  served  by  two  trig  maids.  There  were  champagne 
and  frozen  pudding.  Selma  felt  almost  as  if  she  were 
in  fairy-land.  She  had  never  experienced  anything  just 
like  this  before ;  but  her  exacting  conscience  was  kept 
at  bay  by  the  reflection  that  this  must  be  a  further  man- 
ifestation of  the  New  York  manner,  and  her  self-re- 
spect was  propitiated  by  the  cordiality  of  her  entertain- 
ers. The  conversation  was  bubbling  and  light-hearted 
on  the  part  of  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Williams.  They  kept 
up  a  running  prattle  on  the  current  fads  of  the  day,  the 
theatre,  the  doings  of  well-known  social  personages,  and 
their  own  household  possessions,  which  they  naively 
158 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

called  to  the  attention  of  their  guests,  that  they  might 
be  admired.  But  Selma  enjoyed  more  than  the  general 
conversation  her  talk  with  the  master  of  the  house,  who 
possessed  all  the  friendly  suavity  of  his  wife  and  also  the 
valuable  masculine  trait  of  seeming  to  be  utterly  ab- 
sorbed in  any  woman  to  whom  he  was  talking.  Gregory 
had  a  great  deal  of  manner  and  a  confidential  fluency  of 
style,  which  gave  distinction  even  to  commonplace  re- 
marks. His  method  did  not  condescend  to  nudging 
when  he  wished  to  note  a  point,  but  it  fell  only  so  far 
short  of  it  as  he  thought  social  elegance  required.  His 
conversation  presently  drifted,  or  more  properly  speak- 
ing, flowed  into  a  g-aphic  and  frank  account  of  his  own 
progress  as  a  banker.  He  referred  to  past  successful 
undertakings,  descanted  on  his  present  roseate  respon- 
sibilities, and  hinted  sagely  at  impending  operations 
which  would  eclipse  in  importance  any  in  which  he  had 
hitherto  been  engaged.  In  answer  to  Selma's  questions 
he  discoursed  alluringly  concerning  the  methods  of  the 
Stock  Exchange,  and  gave  her  to  understand  that  for 
an  intelligent  and  enterprising  man  speculation  was  the 
high  road  to  fortune.  No  doubt  for  fools  and  for  peo- 
ple of  mediocre  or  torpid  abilities  it  was  a  dangerous 
trade  ;  but  for  keen  and  bold  intellects  what  pursuit 
offered  such  dazzling  opportunities  ? 

Selma  listened,  abhorrent  yet  fascinated.  It  worried 
her  to  be  told  that  what  she  had  been  accustomed  to 
regard  as  gambling  should  be  so  quickly  and  richly  re- 
warded. Yet  the  fairy  scene  around  her  manifestly 
confirmed  the  prosperous  language  of  her  host  and  left 
no  room  for  doubt  that  her  neighbors  were  making  brill- 
iant progress.  Apparently,  too,  this  business  of  specu- 
lation and  of  vast  combinations  of  railroad  and  other 
159 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

capital,  the  details  of  which  were  very  vagne  to  herj 
was,  in  his  opinion,  the  most  desirable  and  profitable  oi 
callings. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "  that  I  have  been  taught 
to  believe  that  to  speculate  in  stocks  is  rather  dreadful, 
and  that  the  people  of  the  country  don't  approve  of  it.'* 
She  spoke  smilingly,  for  the  leaven  of  the  New  York 
manner  was  working,  but  she  could  not  refrain  from 
testifying  on  behalf  of  righteousness. 

"  The  people  of  the  country  ! "  exclaimed  Gregory, 
with  a  smile  of  complacent  amusement.  "  My  dear  Mrs. 
Littleton,  yon  must  not  let  yourself  be  deceived  by  the 
Sunday  school,  Fourth  of  July,  legislative  or  other  pub- 
lic utterances  of  the  American  people.  It  isn't  necessary 
to  shout  it  on  the  house-tops,  but  I  will  confide  to  you 
that,  whatever  they  may  declaim  or  publish  to  the  con- 
trary, the  American  people  are  at  heart  a  nation  of 
gamblers.  They  don't  play  little  horses  and  other  games 
in  public  for  francs,  like  the  French,  for  the  law  forbids 
it,  but  I  don't  believe  that  any  one,  except  we  bankers 
and  brokers,  realizes  how  widely  exists  the  habit  of  play- 
ing the  stock-market.  Thousands  of  people,  big  and 
little,  sanctimonious  and  highly  respectable,  put  up  their 
margins  and  reap  their  profits  or  their  losses.  Oh  no, 
the  country  doesn't  approve  of  it,  especially  those  who 
lose.  I  assure  you  that  the  letters  which  pass  through 
the  post-office  from  the  godly,  freeborn  voters  in  the  rural 
districts  would  tell  an  eloquent  story  concerning  the 
wishes  of  the  people  of  the  country  in  regard  to  specu- 
lation." 

Flossy  was  rising  from  table  as  he  finished,  so  he 
accompanied  the  close  of  his  statement  with  a  sweeping 
bow  which  comported  with  his  jaunty  dignity. 
160 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  a  wicked  man.  You  ought  not 
to  slander  the  American  people  like  that/'  Selma  an- 
swered, pleased  as  she  spoke  at  the  light  touch  which 
she  was  able  to  impart  to  her  speech. 

"  It's  true.  Every  word  of  it  is  true,"  he  aaid  as  she 
passed  him.  He  added  in  alow  tone — "  I  would  almost 
even  venture  to  wager  a  pair  of  gloves  that  at  some  time 
or  other  your  husband  has  had  a  finger  in  the  pie." 

"Never,"  retorted  Selma. 

"What  is  that  Gregory  is  saying?"  interrupted 
Flossy,  putting  her  arm  inside  Selma's.  "  I  can  see  by 
his  look  that  he  has  been  plaguing  you." 

"  Yes,  he  has  been  trying  to  shatter  my  ideals,  and 
now  he  is  trying  to  induce  me  to  make  an  odious  bet 
with  him." 

"  Don't,  for  you  would  be  certain  to  lose.  Gregory 
is  in  great  luck  nowadays." 

"  That  is  evident,  for  he  has  had  the  good  fortune  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  Mrs.  Littleton, "said  Williams 
gallantly. 

The  two  men  were  left  alone  with  their  cigars.  After 
these  were  lighted,  as  if  he  were  carrying  out  his  pre- 
vious train  of  thought,  Gregory  remarked,  oracularly,  at 
the  end  of  a  puff  :  "  Louisville  and  Nashville  is  certain 
to  sell  higher." 

Littleton  looked  blank  for  a  moment.  He  knew  so 
little  of  stocks  that  a*-  first  he  did  not  understand  what 
was  meant.  Then  he  said,  politely  :  "  Indeed ! " 

"It  is  good  for  a  ten-point  rise  in  my  opinion," 
Williams  continued  after  another  puff.  He  was  of  a 
liberal  nature,  and  was  making  a  present  of  this  tip  to 
his  guest  in  the  same  spirit  of  hospitality  as  he  had 
proffered  the  dinner  and  the  champagne.  He  was  will- 
161 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

ing  to  take  for  granted  that  Littleton,  as  a  gentleman, 
would  give  him  the  order  in  case  he  decided  to  buy, 
which  would  add  another  customer  to  his  list.  But  his 
suggestion  was  chiefly  disinterested. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  know  very  little  about  such  matters," 
Littleton  responded  with  a  smile.  "  I  never  owned  but 
ten  shares  of  stock  in  my  life."  Then,  by  way,  perhaps, 
of  showing  that  he  was  not  indifferent  to  all  the  good 
things  which  the  occasion  afforded,  he  said,  indicating 
a  picture  on  the  opposite  wall :  "  That  is  a  fine  piece  of 
color." 

Williams,  having  discharged  his  obligations  as  a  host, 
was  willing  to  exchange  the  stock-market  as  a  topic  for 
his  own  capacity  as  a  lightning  appreciator  and  pur- 
chaser of  objects  of  art. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  urbanely,  "  that  is  a  good  thing.  I 
saw  it  in  the  shop-window,  asked  the  price  and  bought 
it.  I  bought  two  other  pictures  at  the  same  time.  '  I'll 
take  that,  and  that,  and  that,'  I  said,  pointing  with  my 
cane.  The  dealer  looked  astonished.  He  was  used,  I 
suppose,  to  having  people  come  in  and  look  at  a  picture 
every  day  for  a  fortnight  before  deciding.  When  I  like 
a  thing  I  know  it.  The  three  cost  me  eighteen  hundred 
dollars,  and  I  paid  for  them  within  a  week  by  a  turn  in 
the  market." 

"You  were  very  fortunate,"  said  Littleton,  who 
wished  to  seem  sympathetic. 

Meanwhile  the  two  wives  had  returned  to  the  drawing- 
room  arm  in  arm,  and  established  themselves  on  one  of 
those  small  sofas  for  two,  constructed  so  that  the  sitters 
are  face  to  face.  They  had  taken  a  strong  fancy  to  each 
other,  especially  Flossy  to  Selma,  and  in  the  half  hour 
which  followed  they  made  rapid  progress  toward  inti- 
162 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

macy.  Before  they  parted  each  had  agreed  to  call  the 
other  by  her  Christian  name,  and  Selma  had  confided 
the  story  of  her  divorce.  Flossy  listened  with  absorbed 
interest  and  murmured  at  the  close  : 

"  Who  would  have  thought  it  ?  You  look  so  pure  and 
gentle  and  refined  that  a  man  must  have  been  a  brute 
to  treat  you  like  that.  But  you  are  happy  now,  thank 
goodness.  You  have  a  husband  worthy  of  you." 

Each  had  a  host  of  things  still  unsaid  when  Littleton 
and  Williams  joined  them. 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  said  Wilbur  as  they  left  the  house, 
"  that  was  a  sort  of  Arabian  Nights  entertainment  for  us, 
wasn't  it  ?  A  little  barbaric,  but  handsome  and  well 
intentioned.  I  hope  it  didn't  shock  you  too  much." 

"  It  struck  me  as  very  pleasant,  Wilbur.  I  think  I 
am  beginning  to  understand  New  York  a  little  better. 
Every  thing  costs  so  much  here  that  it  seems  necessary 
to  make  money,  doesn't  it  ?  I  don't  see  exactly  how 
poor  people  get  along.  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Williams 
wished  to  bet  me  a  pair  of  gloves  that  you  buy  stocks 
sometimes." 

"  He  would  have  lost  his  bet." 

"  So  I  told  him  at  once.  But  he  didn't  seem  to  be- 
lieve me.  I  was  sure  you  never  did.  He  appears  to  be 
very  successful ;  but  I  let  him  see  that  I  knew  it  was 
gambling.  You  consider  it  gambling,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Not  quite  so  bad  as  that.  Some  stock-brokers  are 
gamblers ;  but  the  occupation  of  buying  and  selling 
stocks  for  a  commission  is  a  well  recognized  and  fash- 
ionable business." 

"  Mr.  Williams  thinks  that  a  great  many  Americans 
make  money  in  stocks — that  we  are  gamblers  as  a 
nation." 

163 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"  I  am,  in  my  heart,  of  the  same  opinion." 

"Oh,  Wilbur.  I  find  yon  are  not  so  good  a  patriot 
as  I  supposed." 

"  I  hate  bunkum." 

"  What  is  that?" 

"  Saying  things  for  effect,  and  professing  virtue  which 
we  do  not  possess." 

Selma  was  silent  a  moment.  "  What  does  champagne 
cost  a  bottle?" 

"  About  three  dollars  and  a  half." 

"  Do  you  really  think  their  house  barbaric  ?" 

"  It  certainly  suggests  to  me  heterogeneous  barbaric 
splendor.  They  bought  their  upholstery  as  they  did 
their  pictures,  with  free-handed  self-confidence.  Occa- 
sionally they  made  a  brilliant  shot,  but  oftener  they 
never  hit  the  target  at  all." 

"  I  think  I  like  brighter  colors  than  you  do,  Wilbur," 
mused  Selma.  "  I  used  to  consider  things  like  that  as 
wrong ;  but  I  suppose  that  was  because  our  fathers 
wished  Europe  to  understand  that  we  disapproved  of 
the  luxury  of  courts  and  the  empty  lives  of  the  nobility. 
But  if  people  here  with  purpose  have  money,  it  would 
seem  sensible  to  furnish  their  houses  prettily." 

"  Subject  always  to  the  crucifying  canons  of  art," 
laughed  Littleton.  "  I'm  glad  you're  coming  round  to 
my  view,  Selma.  Only  I  deny  the  ability  of  the  free- 
born  American,  with  the  overflowing  purse,  to  indulge 
his  newly  acquired  taste  for  gorgeous  effects  without 
professional  assistance." 

"  I  suppose  so.     I  can  see  that  their  house  is  crude, 
though  I  do  think  that  they  have  some  handsome  things. 
It  must  be  interesting  to  walk  through  shops  and  say  : 
'  I'll  take  that,'  just  because  it  pleases  you." 
164 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

During  her  first  marriage  Selma  had  found  the  prob- 
lem of  dollars  and  cents  a  simple  one.  The  income  of 
Lewis  Babcock  was  always  larger  than  the  demands 
made  upon  it,  and  though  she  kept  house  and  was 
familiar  with  the  domestic  disbursements,  questions  of 
expenditure  solved  themselves  readily.  She  had  never 
been  obliged  to  ask  herself  whether  they  could  afford 
this  or  that  outlay.  Her  husband  had  been  only  too 
eager  to  give  her  anything  she  desired.  Consideration 
of  the  cost  of  things  had  seemed  to  her  beneath  her 
notice,  and  as  the  concern  of  the  providing  man  rather 
than  the  thoughtful  American  wife  and  mothei.  After 
she  had  been  divorced  the  difficulty  in  supplying  her- 
self readily  with  money  had  been  a  dismaying  incident 
of  her  single  life.  Dismaying  because  it  had  seemed  to 
her  a  limitation  unworthy  of  her  aspirations  and  abili- 
ties. She  had  married  Littleton  because  she  believed 
him  her  ideal  of  what  a  man  should  be,  but  she  had 
been  glad  that  he  would  be  able  to  support  her  and 
exempt  her  from  the  necessity  of  asking  what  things 
cost. 

By  the  end  of  their  first  year  and  a  half  of  marriage, 
Selma  realized  that  this  necessity  still  stood,  almost  like 
a  wolf  at  the  door,  between  her  and  the  free  development 
of  her  desires  and  aspirations.  New  York  prices  wer 
appalling  ;  the  demands  of  life  in  New  York  still  more 
so.  They  had  started  house-keeping  on  a  more  elaborate 
scale  than  she  had  been  used  to  in  Benham.  As  Mrs. 
Babcock  she  had  kept  one  hired  girl ;  but  in  her  new 
kitchen  there  were  two  servants,  in  deference  to  the  de- 
sire of  Littleton,  who  did  not  wish  her  to  perform  the 
manual  work  of  the  establishment.  Men  rarely  appre- 
ciate in  advance  to  the  full  extent  the  extra  cost  of 
165 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

married  life,  and  Littleton,  though  intending  to  be  pru- 
dent, found  his  bills  larger  than  he  had  expected.  He 
was  able  to  pay  them  promptly  and  without  worry,  but 
he  was  obliged  to  make  evident  to  Selma  that  the  margin 
over  and  above  their  carefully  considered  expenses  was 
very  small.  The  task  of  watching  the  butcher's  book 
and  the  provision  list,  and  thinking  twice  before  making 
any  new  outlay,  was  something  she  had  not  bargained 
for.  All  through  her  early  life  as  a  girl,  the  question 
of  money  had  been  kept  in  the  background  by  the  sim- 
plicity of  her  surroundings.  In  her  country  town  at 
home  they  had  kept  no  servants.  A  woman  relative 
had  done  the  work,  and  she  had  been  free  to  pursue 
her  mental  interests  and  devote  herself  to  her  father. 
She  had  thought  then  that  the  existence  of  domestic 
servants  was  an  act  of  treason  against  the  institutions 
of  the  country  by  those  who  kept  them.  Yet  she  had 
accepted,  with  glee,  the  hired-girl  whom  Babcock  had 
provided,  satisfying  her  own  democratic  scruples  by 
dubbing  her  "help,"  and  by  occasionally  offering  her  a 
book  to  read  or  catechising  her  as  to  her  moral  needs. 
There  is  probably  no  one  in  the  civilized  world  more 
proud  of  the  possession  of  a  domestic  servant  than  the 
American  woman  who  has  never  had  one,  and  no  one 
more  prompt  to  consign  her  to  the  obscurity  of  the 
kitchen  after  a  feeble  pretence  at  making  her  feel  at 
home.  Selma  was  delighted  to  have  two  instead  of  one, 
and,  after  beholding  Mrs.  Williams's  trig  maids,  was 
eager  to  see  her  own  arrayed  in  white  caps  and  black 
alpaca  dresses.  Yet,  though  she  had  become  keen  to 
cultivate  the  New  York  manner,  and  had  succeeded  in 
reconciling  her  conscience  to  the  possession  of  beautiful 
things  by  people  with  a  purpose,  it  irked  her  to  feel 
166 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

that  she  was  hampered  in  living  up  to  her  new-found 
faith  by  the  bugbear  of  a'  lean  purse.  She  had  expected, 
as  Wilbur's  wife,  to  figure  quickly  and  gracefully  in 
the  van  of  New  York  intellectual  and  social  progress. 
Instead,  she  was  one  among  thousands,  living  in  a  new 
and  undeveloped  locality,  unrecognized  by  the  people  of 
whom  she  read  in  the  newspapers,  and  without  oppor- 
tunities for  displaying  her  own  individuality  and  talents. 
It  depressed  her  to  see  the  long  lines  of  houses,  street 
after  street,  and  to  think  that  she  was  merely  a  unit, 
unknown  by  name,  in  this  great  sea  of  humanity — she, 
Selma  Littleton,  free-born  American,  conscious  of  virtue 
and  power.  This  must  not  be  ;  and  she  divined  clearer 
and  clearer  every  day  that  it  need  not  be  if  she  had 
more  money. 

It  began  to  be  annoying  to  her  that  Wilbur's  profes- 
sional progress  was  not  more  rapid.  To  be  sure  he  had 
warned  her  that  he  could  not  hope  to  reach  the  front 
rank  at  once  ;  that  recognition  must  be  gradual ;  and 
that  he  must  needs  work  slowly  in  order  to  do  himself 
justice.  She  had  accepted  this  chiefly  as  a  manifesta- 
tion of  modesty,  not  doubting  that  many  orders  would 
be  forthcoming,  especially  now  that  he  had  the  new 
stimulus  of  her  love  and  inspiration.  Instead  there  had 
been  no  marked  increase  in  the  number  of  his  com- 
missions ;  moreover  he  had  been  unsuccessful  in  two 
out  of  three  competitions  for  minor  public  buildings 
for  which  he  had  submitted  designs.  From  both  the 
pecuniary  and  professional  point  of  view  these  failures 
had  been  a  disappointment.  He  was  in  good  spirits 
and  obviously  happy,  and  declared  that  he  was  doing 
as  well  as  he  could  reasonably  expect ;  yet  on  his  dis- 
couraged days  he  admitted  that  the  cost  of  retaining  his 
167 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

draughtsmen  was  a  drain  on    the  profit  side  of  his 
ledger. 

In  contrast  with  this  the  prosperity  of  her  neighbors 
the  Williamses  was  a  little  hard  to  bear.  The  sudden 
friendship  developed  into  neighborly  intimacy,  and  she 
and  Flossy  saw  much  of  each  other,  dropping  in  famil- 
iarly, and  often  walking  and  shopping  together.  The 
two  men  were  on  sufficiently  cordial  terms,  each  being 
tolerant  of  the  other's  limitations,  and  seeking  to  recog- 
nize his  good  points  for  the  sake  of  the  bond  between 
their  wives.  The  return  dinner  was  duly  given,  and 
Selma,  hopeless  of  imitating  the  barbaric  splendor, 
sought  refuge  in  the  reflection  that  the  aesthetic  and 
intellectual  atmosphere  of  her  table  would  atone  for  the 
lack  of  material  magnificence,  and  limited  her  efforts  to 
a  few  minor  details  such  as  providing  candles  with 
colored  shades  and  some  bonbon  dishes.  It  was  plain 
that  Flossy  admired  her  because  she  recognized  her  to 
be  a  fine  and  superior  soul,  and  the  appreciation  of  this 
served  to  make  it  more  easy  not  to  repine  at  the  differ- 
ence between  their  entertainments.  Still  the  constant 
acquisition  of  pretty  things  by  her  frank  and  engaging 
friend  was  an  ordeal  which  only  a  soul  endowed  with 
high,  stern  democratic  faith  and  purpose  could  hope  to 
endure  with  equanimity.  Flossy  bought  new  adorn- 
ments for  her  house  and  her  person  with  an  amiable 
lavishness  which  required  no  confession  to  demonstrate 
that  her  husband  was  making  money.  She  made  the 
confession,  though,  from  time  to  time  with  a  bubbling 
pride,  never  suspecting  that  it  could  harass  or  tempt 
her  spiritual  looking  friend.  She  prattled  artlessly  of 
theatre  parties  followed  by  a  supper  at  one  of  the 
fashionable  restaurants,  and  of  new  acquaintances  whom 
168 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

she  entertained,  and  through  whom  her  social  circle  was 
enlarged,  without  divining  that  the  sprightly  narration 
was  a  thorn  in  the  flesh  of  her  hearer.  Selma  was 
capricious  in  her  reception  of  these  reports  of  progress. 
At  times  she  listened  to  them  with  grave,  cold  eyes, 
which  Flossy  took  for  signals  of  noble  disdain  and 
sought  to  deprecate  by  wooing  promises  to  be  less 
worldly.  At  others  she  asked  questions  with  a  feverish, 
searching  curiosity,  which  stimulated  Mrs.  Williams's 
free  and  independent  style  into  running  commentaries 
on  the  current  course  of  social  events  and  the  doings 
and  idiosyncracies  of  contemporary  leaders  of  fashion 
whom  she  had  viewed  from  afar.  One  afternoon  Selma 
saw  from  her  window  Flossy  and  her  husband  drive 
jubilantly  away  in  a  high  cart  with  yellow  wheels  drawn 
by  a  sleek  cob,  and  at  the  same  moment  she  became 
definitely  aware  that  her  draught  from  the  cup  of  life 
had  a  bitter  taste.  Why  should  these  people  drive  in 
their  own  vehicle  rather  than  she  ?  It  seemed  clear  to 
her  that  Wilbur  could  not  be  making  the  best  use  of  his 
talents,  and  that  she  had  both  a  grievance  against  him 
and  a  sacred  duty  to  perform  in  his  and  her  own  behalf. 
Justice  and  self-respect  demanded  that  their  mutual 
light  should  no  longer  be  hid  under  a  bushel. 


169 


CHAPTER  V. 

PAULINE  LITTLETON  was  now  established  in  her  new 
lodgings.  Having  been  freed  by  her  brother's  marriage 
from  the  responsibilities  of  a  housewife,  she  was  able  to 
concentrate  her  attention  on  the  work  in  which  she  was 
interested.  Her  classes  absorbed  a  large  portion  of  her 
time.  The  remainder  was  devoted  to  writing  to  girls 
in  other  cities  who  sought  her  advice  in  regard  to 
courses  of  study,  and  to  correspondence,  consultation, 
and  committee  meetings  with  a  group  of  women  in  New 
York  and  elsewhere,  who  like  herself  were  engrossed  in 
educational  matters.  She  was  glad  to  have  the  addi- 
tional time  thus  afforded  her  for  pursuing  her  own 
tastes,  and  the  days  seemed  too  short  for  what  she 
wished  to  accomplish.  She  occupied  two  pleasant 
rooms  within  easy  walking  distance  of  her  brother's 
house.  Her  classes  took  her  from  home  four  days  in 
the  week,  and  two  mornings  in  every  seven  were  spent 
at  her  desk  with  her  books  and  papers,  in  the  agreeable 
labor  of  planning  and  correspondence. 

Naturally  one  of  her  chief  desires  was  to  be  on  loving 
terms  with  her  brother's  wife,  and  to  do  everything  in 
her  power  to  add  to  Selma's  happiness.  She  summoned 
her  women  friends  to  meet  her  sister-in-law  at  after- 
noon tea.  All  of  these  called  on  the  bride,  and  some  of 
them  invited  her  to  their  houses.  They  were  busy 
women  like  Pauline  herself,  intent  in  their  several  ways 
170 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

on  their  vocations  or  avocations.  They  were  disposed 
to  extend  the  right  hand  of  fellowship  to  Mrs.  Littleton, 
whom  they  without  exception  regarded  as  interesting  in 
appearance,  but  they  had  no  leisure  for  immediate  inti- 
macy with  her.  Having  been  introduced  to  her  and 
having  scheduled  her  in  their  minds  as  a  new  and  desira- 
ble acquaintance,  they  went  their  ways,  trusting  chiefly 
to  time  to  renew  the  meeting  and  to  supply  the  evidence 
as  to  the  stranger's  social  value.  Busy  people  in  a  large 
city  are  obliged  to  argue  that  new-comers  should  win 
their  spurs,  and  that  great  minds,  valuable  opinions,  and 
moving  social  graces  are  never  crushed  by  inhumanity, 
but  are  certain  sooner  or  later  to  gain  recognition. 
Therefore  after  being  very  cordial  and  expressing  the 
hope  of  seeing  more  of  her  in  the  future,  every  one 
departed  and  left  Selma  to  her  duties  and  her  opportu- 
nities as  Littleton's  wife,  without  having  the  courtesy  to 
indicate  that  they  considered  her  a  superior  woman. 

Pauline  regarded  this  behavior  on  the  part  of  her 
friends  as  normal,  and  having  done  her  social  duty  in 
the  afternoon  tea  line,  without  a  suspicion  that  Selma 
was  disappointed  by  the  experience,  she  gave  herself  up 
to  the  congenial  undertaking  of  becoming  intimate  with 
her  sister-in-law.  She  ascribed  Selma's  reserve,  and 
cold,  serious  manner  partly  to  shyness  due  to  her  new 
surroundings,  and  partly  to  the  spiritual  rigor  of  the 
puritan  conscience  and  point  of  view.  She  had  often 
been  told  that  individuals  of  this  temperament  possessed 
more  depth  of  character  than  more  emotional  and 
socially  facile  people,  and  she  was  prepared  to  woo.  In 
comparison  with  Wilbur,  Pauline  was  accustomed  to 
regard  herself  as  a  practical  and  easy-going  soul,  but  she 
was  essentially  a  woman  of  fine  and  vigorous  moral  and 
171 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

mental  purpose.  Like  many  of  her  associates  in  active 
life,  however,  she  had  become  too  occupied  with  concrete 
possibilities  to  be  able  to  give  much  thought  to  her  own 
soul  anatomy,  and  she  was  glad  to  look  up  to  her 
brother's  wife  as  a  spiritual  superior  and  to  recognize 
that  the  burden  lay  on  herself  to  demonstrate  her  own 
worthiness  to  be  admitted  to  close  intimacy  on  equal 
terms.  Wilbur  was  to  her  a  creature  of  light,  and  she 
had  no  doubt  that  his  wife  was  of  the  same  ethereal  com- 
position. 

Pauline  was  glad,  too,  of  the  opportunity  really  to 
know  a  countrywoman  of  a  type  so  different  from  her 
own  friends.  She,  like  Wilbur,  had  heard  all  her  life 
of  these  interesting  and  inspiring  beings ;  intense,  mar- 
vellously capable,  peerless,  free-born  creatures  panoplied 
in  chastity  and  endowed  with  congenital  mental  power 
and  bodily  charms,  who  were  able  to  cook,  educate 
children,  control  society  and  write  literature  in  the 
course  of  the  day's  employment  The  newspapers  and 
popular  opinion  had  given  her  to  understand  that  these 
were  the  true  Americans,  and  caused  her  to  ask  herself 
whether  the  circle  to  which  she  herself  belonged  was  not 
retrograde  from  a  nobler  ideal.  In  what  way  she  did 
not  precisely  understand,  except  that  she  and  her  friends 
did  not  altogether  disdain  nice  social  usages  and  con- 
ventional womanly  ways.  But,  nevertheless,  the 
impression  had  remained  in  her  mind  that  she  must  be 
at  fault  somehow,  and  it  interested  her  that  she  would 
now  be  able  to  understand  wherein  she  was  inferior. 

She  went  to  see  Selma  as  often  as  she  could,  and 

encouraged  her  to  call  at  her  lodgings  on  the  mornings 

when  she  was  at  home,  expecting  that  it  might  please 

her  sister-in-law  to  become  familiar  with  the  budding 

172 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

educational  enterprises,  and  that  thus  a  fresh  bond  of 
sympathy  would  be  established  between  them.  Selma 
presented  herself  three  or  four  times  in  the  course  of 
the  next  three  months,  and  on  the  first  occasion  ex- 
pressed gratifying  appreciation  of  the  cosiness  of  the 
new  lodgings. 

"I  almost  envy  you,"  she  said,  "your  freedom  to 
live  your  own  life  and  do  just  what  you  like.  It  must 
be  delightful  away  up  here  where  you  can  see  over  the 
tops  of  the  houses  and  almost  touch  the  sky,  and  there  is 
no  one  to  disturb  the  current  of  your  thoughts.  It 
must  be  a  glorious  place  to  work  and  write.  I  shall  ask 
you  to  let  me  come  up  here  sometimes  when  I  wish  to 
be  alone  with  my  own  ideas." 

"  As  often  as  you  like.     You  shall  have  a  pass  key." 

"  I  should  think,"  said  Selma,  continuing  to  gaze, 
with  her  far  away  look,  over  the  vista  of  roofs  which  the 
top  story  of  the  apartment  house  commanded,  "  that 
you  would  be  a  great  deal  happier  than  if  you  had  mar- 
ried him." 

The  pause  which  ensued  caused  her  to  look  round, 
and  add  jauntily,  "  I  have  heard,  you  know,  about  Dr. 
Page." 

A  wave  of  crimson  spread  over  Pauline's  face — the 
crimson  of  wounded  surprise,  which  froze  Selma's  genial 
intentions  to  the  core. 

"  I  didn't  think  you'd  mind  talking  about  it,"  she 
said  stiffly. 

"  There's  nothing  to  talk  about.  Since  you  have 
mentioned  it;  Dr.  Page  is  a  dear  friend  of  mine,  and 
will  always  continue  to  be,  I  hope." 

"  Oh,  I  knew  you  were  nothing  but  friends  now," 
Selma  answered.  She  felt  wounded  in  her  turn.  She 
173 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

hpd  come  with  the  wish  to  be  gracious  and  companion- 
able, and  it  had  seemed  to  her  a  happy  thought  to  con- 
gratulate Pauline  on  the  wisdom  of  her  decision.  She 
did  not  like  people  who  were  not  ready  to  be  communi- 
cative and  discuss  their  intimate  concerns. 

The  episode  impaired  the  success  of  the  first  morning 
visit.  At  the  next,  which  occurred  a  fortnight  later, 
Pauline  announced  that  she  had  a  piece  of  interesting 
news. 

"  Do  yon  know  a  Mr.  Joel  Flagg  in  Benham  ?" 

"I  know  who  he  is,"  said  Selma.  "I  have  met  his 
daughter. " 

"  It  seems  he  has  made  a  fortune  in  oil  and  real  estate, 
and  is  desirous  to  build  a  college  for  women  in  memory 
of  his  mother,  Sarah  Wetmore.  One  of  my  friends  has 
just  received  a  letter  from  a  Mrs.  Hallett  Taylor,  to 
whom  Mr.  Flagg  appears  to  have  applied  for  counsel, 
and  who  wishes  some  of  us  who  are  interested  in  educa- 
tional matters  to  serve  as  an  advisory  committee.  Prob- 
ably you  know  Mrs.  Taylor  too  ?" 

"  Oh  yes.  I  have  been  at  her  house,  and  I  served 
with  her  on  the  committee  which  awarded  Wilbur  the 
church." 

"  Why,  then  yon  are  the  very  person  to  tell  us  all 
about  her.  I  think  I  remember  now  having  heard  Wil- 
bur mention  her  name." 

"  Wilbur  fancied  her,  I  believe." 

"  Your  tone  rather  implies  that  yon  did  not.  You 
must  tell  me  everything  you  know.  My  friend  has  cor- 
responded with  her  before  in  regard  to  some  artistic 
matters,  but  she  has  never  met  her.  Her  letter  sug- 
gests a  lady." 

"  I  dare  say  you  would  like  Mrs.  Taylor/'  said  Selma, 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

gravely.  "  She  is  attractive,  I  suppose,  and  seemed  to 
know  more  or  less  about  Europen  art  and  pictures,  but 
we  in  Benham  didn't  consider  her  exactly  an  American. 
If  you  really  wish  to  know  my  opinion,  I  think  that  she 
was  too  exclusive  a  person  to  have  fine  ideas." 

"  That's  a  pity." 

"  If  she  lived  in  New  York  she  would  like  to  be  one 
of  those  society  ladies  who  live  on  Fifth  Avenue  ;  only 
she  hasn't  really  any  conception  of  what  true  elegance 
is.  Her  house  there,  except  for  the  ornaments  she  had 
bought  abroad,  was  not  so  well  furnished  as  the  one  I 
lived  in.  I  wonder  what  she  would  think  if  she  could 
look  into  the  drawing-room  of  my  friend  Mrs.  Williams." 

"  I  see,"  said  Pauline,  though  in  truth  she  was  puz- 
zled. "  I  am  sorry  if  she  is  a  fine  lady,  but  people  like 
that,  when  they  become  interested,  are  often  excellent 
workers.  It  is  a  noble  gift  of  Mr.  Flagg's— $500,000  as 
a  foundation  fund.  He's  a  good  American  at  all  events. 
Wilbur  must  certainly  compete  for  the  buildings,  and 
his  having  first  met  you  there  ought  to  be  an  inspiration 
to  him  to  do  fine  work." 

Selma  had  been  glad  of  the  opportunity  to  criticise  Mrs. 
Hallett  Taylor,  whom  she  had  learned,  by  the  light  of  her 
superior  social  knowledge,  to  regard  as  an  unimportant 
person.  Yet  she  had  been  conscious  of  a  righteous  im- 
pulse in  saying  what  she  thought  of  her.  She  knew 
that  she  had  never  liked  Mrs.  Taylor,  and  she  was  not 
pleased  to  hear  that  Mr.  Flagg  had  selected  her  from 
among  the  women  of  Benham  to  superintend  the  admin- 
istration of  his  splendid  gift.  Benham  had  come  to  seem 
to  her  remote  and  primitive,  yet  she  preferred,  and  was 
in  the  mood,  to  think  that  it  represented  the  principles 
which  were  dear  to  her,  and  that  she  had  been  appreci' 
175 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

ated  there  far  better  than  in  her  present  sphere.  She 
was  still  tied  to  Benham  by  correspondence  with  Mrs. 
Earle.  Selma  had  written  at  once  to  explain  her  sudden 
departure,  and  letters  passed  between  them  at  intervals 
of  a  few  weeks — letters  on  Selma's  part  fluent  with  daz- 
zled metropolitan  condescension,  yet  containing  every 
now  and  then  a  stern  charge  against  her  new  fellow- 
citizens  on  the  score  of  levity  and  worldliness. 

The  donation  for  the  establishment  of  Wetmore  Col- 
lege was  made  shortly  after  another  institution  for  the 
education  of  women  in  which  Pauline  was  interested — 
Everdean  College — had  been  opened  to  students.  The 
number  of  applicants  for  admission  to  Everdean  had 
been  larger  than  the  authorities  had  anticipated,  and 
Pauline,  who  had  been  one  of  the  promoters  and  most 
active  workers  in  raising  funds  for  and  supervising  the 
construction  of  this  labor  of  love,  was  jubilant  over  the 
outlook,  and  busy  in  regard  to  a  variety  of  new  matters 
presented  for  solution  by  the  suddenly  evolved  needs  of 
the  situation.  Among  these  was  the  acquisition  of  two 
or  three  new  women  instructors ;  and  it  occurred  to 
Pauline  at  once  that  Selma  might  know  of  some  desir- 
able candidate.  Selma  appeared  to  manifest  but  little 
interest  in  this  inquiry  at  the  time,  but  a  few  months 
subsequent  to  their  conversation  in  regard  to  Mrs.  Tay- 
lor she  presented  herself  at  Pauline's  rooms  one  morn- 
ing with  the  announcement  that  she  had  found  some 
one.  Pauline,  who  was  busy  at  her  desk,  asked  permis- 
sion to  finish  a  letter  before  listening  ;  so  there  was 
silence  for  a  few  minutes,  and  Selma,  who  wore  a  new 
costume  of  a  more  fashionable  guise  than  her  last,  re- 
flected while  she  waited  that  the  details  of  such  work  as 
occupied  her  sister-in-law  must  be  tedious.  Indeed,  she 
176 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

had  begun  to  entertain  of  late  a  sort  of  contempt  for  the 
deliberate,  delving  processes  of  the  Littletons.  She  was 
inclined  to  ask  herself  if  Wilbur  and  Pauline  were  not 
both  plodders.  Her  own  idea  of  doing  things  was  to  do 
them  quickly  and  brilliantly,  arriving  at  conclusions,  as 
became  an  American,  with  prompt  energy  and  despatch. 
It  seemed  to  her  that  Wilbur,  in  his  work,  was  slow  and 
elaborate,  disposed  to  hesitate  and  refine  instead  of  pro- 
ducing boldly  and  immediately.  And  his  sister,  with 
her  studies  and  letter- writing,  suggested  the  same  weari- 
some tendency.  Why  should  not  Wilbur,  in  his  line, 
act  with  the  confident  enterprise  and  capacity  to  produce 
immediate,  ostensible  results  which  their  neighbor,  Greg- 
ory Williams,  displayed  ?  As  for  Pauline,  of  course  she 
had  not  Wilbur's  talent  and  could  not,  perhaps,  be  ex- 
pected to  shine  conspicuously,  but  surely  she  might 
make  more  of  herself  if  only  she  would  cease  to  spend 
so  much  time  in  details  and  cogitation,  with  nothing 
tangible  to  show  for  her  labor.  Selma  remembered  her 
own  experience  as  a  small  school  teacher,  and  her  thank- 
fulness at  her  escape  from  a  petty  task  unworthy  of  her 
capabilities,  and  she  smiled  scornfully  to  herself,  as  she 
sat  waiting,  at  what  she  regarded  Pauline's  willingness 
to  spend  her  energies  in  such  inconspicuous,  self-effac- 
ing work.  Indeed,  when  Pauline  had  finished  her  let- 
ter and  announced  that  she  was  now  entirely  at  leisure, 
Selma  felt  impelled  to  remark  : 

"I  should  think,  Pauline,  that  you  would  give  a 
course  of  lectures  on  education.  We  should  be  glad  to 
have  them  at  our  house,  and  your  friends  ought  to  be 
able  to  dispose  of  a  great  many  tickets."  Such  a  thing 
had  never  occurred  to  Selma  until  this  moment,  but  it 
seemed  to  her,  as  she  heard  her  own  words,  a  brilliant 
177 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

suggestion,  both  as  a  step  forward  for  Pauline  and  a 
social  opportunity  for  herself. 

"  On  education  ?  My  dear  Selma,  you  have  no  idea 
of  the  depths  of  my  ignorance.  Education  is  an  enor- 
mous subject,  and  I  am  just  beginning  to  realize  how 
little  I  know  concerning  it.  People  have  talked  and 
written  about  education  enough.  What  we  need  and 
what  some  of  us  are  trying  to  do  is  to  study  statistics 
and  observe  results.  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you, 
but  I  should  only  make  myself  a  laughing-stock." 

"I  don't  think  you  would.  You  have  spent  a  great 
deal  of  time  in  learning  about  education,  and  you  must 
have  interesting  things  to  say.  You  are  too  modest  and 
— don't  you  think  it  may  be  that  you  are  not  quite  en- 
terprising enough  ?  A  course  of  lectures  would  call 
public  attention  to  you,  and  you  would  get  ahead  faster, 
perhaps.  I  think  that  you  and  Wilbur  are  both  inclined 
to  hide  your  light  under  a  bushel.  It  seems  to  me  that 
one  can  be  conscientious  and  live  up  to  one's  ideals  with- 
out neglecting  one's  opportunities." 

"  The  difficulty  is,"  said  Pauline,  with  a  laugh,  "  that 
I  shouldn't  regard  it  as  an  opportunity,  and  I  am  sure 
it  wouldn't  help  me  to  get  ahead,  as  you  call  it,  with 
the  people  I  desire  to  impress,  to  give  afternoon  tea  or 
women-club  lectures.  I  don't  know  enough  to  lecture 
effectively.  As  to  enterprise,  I  am  busy  from  morning 
until  night  What  more  can  a  woman  do  ?  You  mustn't 
hurry  Wilbur,  Selma.  All  he  needs  is  time  to  let  the 
world  see  his  light." 

"  Very  likely.  Of  course,  if  you  don't  consider  that 
you  know  enough  there  is  nothing  to  be  said.  I  thought 
of  it  because  I  used  to  lecture  in  Benham,  at  the  Ben- 
ham  Institute,  and  I  am  sure  it  helped  me  to  get  ahead. 
178 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

I  used  to  think  a  great  deal  about  educational  matters, 
and  perhaps  I  will  set  you  the  example  by  giving  some 
lectures  myself." 

"That  would  be  very  interesting.  If  a  person  has 
new  ideas  and  has  confidence  in  them,  it  is  natural  to 
wish  to  let  the  world  hear  them." 

Pauline  spoke  amiably,  but  she  was  disposed  to  regard 
her  sister  with  more  critical  eyes.  She  felt  no  annoy- 
ance at  the  patronizing  tone  toward  herself,  but  the  ref- 
erence to  Wilbur  made  her  blood  rebel.  Still  she  could 
not  bear  to  harbor  distrust  against  that  grave  face  with 
its  delicate  beauty  and  spiritualized  air,  which  was  be- 
comingly accommodated  to  metropolitan  conditions  by  a 
more  festive  bonnet  than  any  which  she  herself  owned. 
Yet  she  noticed  that  the  thin  lips  had  an  expression  of 
discontent,  and  she  wondered  why. 

Recurring  to  the  errand  on  which  she  had  come, 
Selraa  explained  that  she  had  just  received  a  letter  from 
Benham — from  her  friend,  Mrs.  Margaret  Rodney 
Earle,  an  authoress  and  a  promulgator  of  advanced  and 
original  ideas  in  respect  to  the  cause  of  womanhood, 
asking  if  she  happened  to  know  of  an  opening  for  a 
gifted  young  lady  in  any  branch  of  intellectual  work. 

"  I  thought  at  once  of  Everdean,"  said  Selma,  "  and 
have  come  to  give  you  the  opportunity  of  securing  her." 

Pauline  expressed  her  thanks  cordially,  and  inquired 
if  Mrs.  Earle  had  referred  to  the  candidate's  experience 
or  special  fitness  for  the  duties  of  the  position. 

"  She  writes  that  she  is  very  clever  and  gifted.  I  did 
not  bring  the  letter  with  me,  but  I  think  Mrs.  Earle's 
language  was  that  Miss  Bailey  will  perform  brilliantly 
any  duties  which  may  be  intrusted  to  her." 

"  That  is  rather  general,"  said  Pauline.  "  I  am  sorry 
179 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

that  she  didn't  specify  what  Miss  Bailey's  education  has 
been,  and  whether  she  has  taught  else  where. " 

"  Mrs.  Earle  wouldn't  have  recommended  her  if  she 
hadn't  felt  sure  that  she  was  well  educated.  I  remem- 
ber seeing  her  at  the  Benham  Institute  on  one  of  the 
last  occasions  when  I  was  present.  She  delivered  a 
whistling  solo  which  every  one  thought  clever  and  melo- 
dious." 

"  I  dare  say  she  is  just  the  person  we  are  looking  for," 
said  Pauline,  leniently.  "  It  happens  that  Mrs.  Grain- 
ger— my  friend  to  whom  Mrs.  Taylor  wrote  concerning 
Mr.  Flagg*s  gift — is  to  make  Mrs.  Taylor  a  visit  at  Ben- 
ham  next  week,  in  order  to  consider  the  steps  to  be 
taken  in  regard  to  Wetmore  College.  She  and  Miss 
Bailey  can  arrange  to  meet,  and  that  will  save  Miss 
Bailey  the  expense  of  a  journey  to  New  York,  at  the 
possible  risk  of  disappointment." 

"  I  thought,"  said  Selma,  "  that  you  would  consider 
yourselves  fortunate  to  secure  her  services." 

"  I  dare  say  we  shall  be  very  fortunate,  Selma.  Bat 
we  cannot  engage  her  without  seeing  her  and  testing 
her  qualifications." 

Selma  made  no  further  demur  at  the  delay,  but  she 
was  obviously  surprised  and  piqued  that  her  offer 
should  be  treated  in  this  elaborate  fashion.  She  was 
obliged  to  acknowledge  to  herself  that  she  could  not 
reasonably  expect  Pauline  to  make  a  definite  decision 
without  further  inquiry,  but  she  had  expected  to  be 
able  to  report  to  Mrs.  Earle  that  the  matter  was  as  good 
as  settled— that,  if  Miss  Bailey  would  give  a  few  partic- 
ulars as  to  her  accomplishments,  the  position  would  be 
hers.  Surely  she  and  Mrs.  Earle  were  qualified  to  choose 
a  school-teacher.  Here  was  another  instance  of  the  Lit- 
180 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

fcleton  tendency  to  waste  time  on  unimportant  details. 
She  reasoned  that  a  woman  with  more  wide-awake  percep- 
tions would  have  recognized  the  opportunity  as  unusual, 
and  would  have  snapped  up  Miss  Bailey  on  the  spot. 

The  sequel  was  more  serious.  Neither  Selma  nor 
Pauline  spoke  of  the  matter  for  a  month.  Then  it  was 
broached  by  Pauline,  who  wrote  a  few  lines  to  the  effect 
that  she  was  sorry  to  report  that  the  authorities  of 
Everdean,  after  investigation,  had  concluded  not  to  en- 
gage the  services  of  Miss  Bailey  as  instructor.  When 
Selma  read  the  note  her  cheeks  burned  with  resentment. 
She  regarded  the  decision  as  an  affront.  Pauline  dined 
with  them  on  the  evening  of  that  day,  and  at  table 
Selma  was  cold  and  formal.  When  the  two  women  were 
alone,  Selma  said  at  once,  with  an  attempt  at  calmness  : 

"  What  fault  do  you  find  with  my  candidate  ?" 

"  I  think  it  possible  that  she  might  have  been  satis- 
factory from  the  mere  point  of  scholarship,"  judicially 
answered  Pauline,  who  did  not  realize  in  the  least  that 
her  sister-in-law  was  offended,  "  though  Mrs.  Grainger 
stopped  short  of  close  inquiry  on  that  score,  for  the  rea- 
son that  Miss  Bailey  failed  to  satisfy  our  requirements 
in  another  respect.  I  don't  wish  to  imply  by  what  I  am 
going  to  say  anything  against  her  character,  or  her  ca- 
pacity for  usefulness  as  a  teacher  under  certain  condi- 
tions, but  I  confide  to  you  frankly,  Selma,  that  we  make 
it  an  absolute  condition  in  the  choice  of  instructors  for 
our  students  that  they  should  be  first  of  all  lady-like  in 
thought  and  speech,  and  here  it  was  that  she  fell  short. 
Of  course  I  have  never  seen  Miss  Bailey,  but  Mrs. 
Grainger  reported  that  she  was — er— impossible." 

"  You  mean  that  your  friend  does  not  consider  her  a 
lady  *  She  isn't  a  society  lady,  but  I  did  not  suppose  an 
181 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

American  girl  would  be  refused  a  position  as  a  teacher 
for  such  a  reason  as  thai" 

"  A  lady  is  a  lady,  whether  she  is  what  you  term  a 
society  lady  or  not.  Mrs.  Grainger  told  us  that  Miss 
Bailey's  appearance  and  manners  did  not  suggest  the 
womanly  refinement  which  we  deem  indispensable  in 
those  who  are  to  teach  our  college  students.  Five  years 
ago  only  scholarship  and  cleverness  were  demanded,  but 
experience  has  taught  the  educators  of  women  that  this 
was  a  mistake. " 

"I  presume/* said  Selma,  with  dramatic  scorn,  "  that 
Mrs.  Hallett  Taylor  disapproved  of  her.  I  thought 
there  would  be  some  such  outcome  when  I  heard  that 
she  was  to  be  consulted." 

"  Mrs.  Taylor's  name  was  not  mentioned/'  answered 
Pauline,  in  astonishment.  "  I  had  no  idea,  Selma,  that 
you  regarded  this  as  a  personal  matter.  You  told  me 
that  you  had  seen  Miss  Bailey  but  once." 

"  I  am  interested  in  her  because — because  I  do  not 
like  to  see  a  cruel  wrong  done.  You  do  not  understand 
her.  You  allow  a  prejudice,  a  class-prejudice,  to  inter- 
fere with  her  career  and  the  opportunity  to  display  her 
abilities.  Yon  should  have  trusted  Mrs.  Earle,  Pauline, 
She  is  my  friend,  and  she  recommended  Miss  Bailey 
because  she  believed  in  her.  It  is  a  reflection  on  me  and 
my  friends  to  intimate  that  she  is  not  a  lady." 

She  bent  forward  from  the  sofa  with  her  hands 
clasped  and  her  lips  tightly  compressed.  For  a  moment 
she  gazed  angrily  at  the  bewildered  Pauline,  then,  as 
though  she  had  suddenly  bethought  her  of  her  New 
York  manner,  she  drew  herself  up  and  said  with  a 
forced  laugh — "  If  the  reason  you  give  were  not  so  ridic- 
ulous, I  should  be  seriously  offended." 
182 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

"  Offended  !  Offended  with  Pauline,"  exclaimed  Lit- 
tleton,  who  entered  the  room  at  the  moment.  "It  can- 
not be  that  my  two  guardian  angels  have  had  a  falling 
out."  He  looked  from  one  to  the  other  brightly  as  if 
it  were  really  a  joke. 

"  It  is  nothing,"  said  Selma. 

"It  seems/' said  Pauline  with  fervor,  "that  I  have 
unintentionally  hurt  Selma's  feelings.  It  is  the  last 
thing  in  the  world  I  wish  to  do,  and  I  trust  that  when 
she  thinks  the  matter  over  she  will  realize  that  I  am 
innocent.  I  am  very,  very  sorry." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"  WHY  don't  you  follow  the  advice  of  Mr.  Williams 
and  buy  some  shares  of  stock  ? "  asked  Selma  lightly, 
yet  coaxingly,  of  her  husband  one  day  in  the  third  year 
of  their  marriage.  The  Williamses  were  dining  with 
them  at  the  time,  and  a  statement  by  Gregory,  not  alto- 
gether without  motive,  as  to  the  profits  made  by  several 
people  who  had  taken  his  advice,  called  forth  the  ques- 
tion. He  and  his  wife  were  amiably  inclined  toward  the 
Littletons,  and  were  proud  of  the  acquaintance.  Among 
their  other  friends  they  boasted  of  the  delightful  excur- 
sions into  the  literary  circle  which  the  intimacy  afforded 
them.  They  both  would  have  been  pleased  to  see  their 
neighbors  more  amply  provided  with  money,  and  Greg- 
ory, partly  at  the  instance  of  Flossy,  partly  from  sheer 
good-humor  in  order  to  give  a  deserving  but  impractical 
fellow  a  chance  to  better  himself,  threw  out  tips  from 
time  to  time — crumbs  from  the  rich  man's  table,  but 
bestowed  in  a  friendly  spirit.  Whenever  they  were  let 
fall,  Selma  would  look  at  Wilbur  hoping  for  a  sign  of 
interest,  but  hitherto  they  had  evoked  merely  a  smile  of 
refusal  or  had  been  utterly  ignored. 

Her  own  question  had  been  put  on  several  occasions, 
both  in  the  company  of  the  tempter  and  in  the  privacy 
of  the  domestic  hearth,  and  both  in  the  gayly  sugges- 
tive and  the  pensively  argumentative  key.  Why  might 
they  not,  by  means  of  a  clever  purchase  in  the  stock 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

market,  occasionally  procure  some  of  the  agreeable 
extra  pleasures  of  life — provide  the  ready  money  for  the- 
atres, a  larger  wardrobe,  trips  from  home,  or  a  modest 
equipage  ?  Why  not  take  advantage  of  the  friendly  ad- 
vice given  ?  Mr.  Williams  had  made  clear  that  the  pur- 
chase of  stocks  on  a  sufficient  margin  was  no  more  rep- 
rehensible as  a  moral  proposition  than  the  purchase  of 
cargoes  of  sugar,  cotton,  coffee  or  tea  against  which 
merchants  borrowed  money  at  the  bank.  In  neither 
instance  did  the  purchaser  own  outright  what  he  sought 
to  sell  at  an  advance  ;  merely  in  one  case  it  was  shares, 
in  the  other  merchandise.  Of  course  it  was  foolish  for 
inexperienced  country  folk  with  small  means  to  dabble 
in  stocks  and  bonds,  but  why  should  not  city  people  who 
were  clever  and  had  clever  friends  in  the  business  eke 
out  the  cost  of  living  by  shrewd  investments  ?  In  an 
old-fashioned  sense  it  might  be  considered  gambling; 
Out,  if  it  were  true,  as  Wilbur  and  Mr.  Williams  both 
maintained,  that  the  American  people  were  addicted  to 
speculation,  was  not  the  existence  of  the  habit  strong 
evidence  that  the  prejudice  against  it  must  be  ill- 
founded  ?  The  logical  and  the  patriotic  conclusion 
must  needs  be  that  business  methods  had  changed,  and 
that  the  American  nation  had  been  clever  enough  to 
substitute  dealings  in  shares  of  stock,  and  in  contracts 
relating  to  cereals  and  merchandise  for  the  methods 
of  their  grandfathers  who  delivered  the  properties  in 
bulk. 

To  this  condensation  of  Gregory's  glib  sophistries  on 
the  lips  of  his  wife,  Wilbur  had  seemed  to  turn  a  deaf  ear. 
It  did  not  occur  to  him,  at  first,  that  Selma  was  seriously 
in  earnest.  He  regarded  her  suggestions  of  neglected 
opportunities,  which  were  often  whimsically  uttered,  as 
185 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

more  than  half  playfnl — a  sort  of  make-believe  envy  oi 
the  meteoric  progress  in  magnificence  of  their  friendly 
neighbors.  He  was  even  glad  that  she  should  show  her- 
self appreciative  of  the  merits  of  civilized  comfort,  for 
he  had  been  afraid  lest  her  ascetic  scruples  would  lead 
her  judgments  too  far  in  the  opposite  direction.  He 
welcomed  them  and  encouraged  her  small  schemes  to 
make  the  establishment  more  festive  and  stylish  in 
appearance,  in  modest  imitation  of  the  splendor  next 
door.  But  constant  and  more  sombre  reference  to  the 
growing  fortunes  of  the  Williamses  presently  attracted 
his  attention  and  made  him  more  observant.  His  income 
sufficed  to  pay  the  ordinary  expenses  of  quiet  domestic 
life,  and  to  leave  a  small  margin  for  carefully  considered 
amusements,  but  he  reflected  that  if  Selma  were  yearn- 
ing for  greater  luxury,  he  could  not  afford  at  present  to 
increase  materially  her  allowance.  It  grieved  him  as  a 
proud  man  to  think  that  the  woman  he  loved  should 
lack  any  thing  she  desired,  and  without  a  thought  of 
distrust  he  applied  himself  more  strenuously  to  his  work, 
hoping  that  the  sum  of  his  commissions  would  enable 
him  presently  to  gratify  some  of  her  hankerings — such, 
for  instance,  as  the  possession  of  a  horse  and  vehicle. 
Selma  had  several  times  alluded  with  a  sigh  to  the  satis- 
faction there  must  be  in  driving  in  the  new  park.  Babcock 
had  kept  a  horse,  and  the  Williamses  now  drove  past  the 
windows  daily  in  a  phaeton  drawn  by  two  iron  gray, 
champing  steeds.  He  said  to  himself  that  he  could 
scarcely  blame  Selma  if  she  coveted  now  and  then  Flossy's 
fine  possessions,  and  the  thought  that  she  was  not  alto- 
gether happy  in  consequence  of  his  failure  to  earn  more 
kept  recurring  to  his  mind  and  worried  him.  No  children 
K%d  been  born  to  them,  and  he  pictured  with  growing 
186 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

concern  his  wife  lonely  at  home  on  this  account,  yet 
without  extra  income  to  make  purchases  which  might 
enable  her  to  forget  at  times  that  there  was  no  baby  in 
the  house.  Flossy  had  two  children,  a  boy  and  a  girl, 
two  gorgeously  bedizened  little  beings  who  were  trun- 
dled along  the  sidewalk  in  a  black,  highly  varnished 
baby-wagon  which  was  reputed  by  the  dealer  who  sold  it 
to  Gregory  to  have  belonged  to  an  English  nobleman. 
Wilbur  more  than  once  detected  Selma  looking  at  the 
babies  with  a  wistful  glance.  She  was  really  admiring 
their  clothes,  yet  the  thought  of  how  prettily  she  would 
have  been  able  to  dress  a  baby  of  her  own  was  at  times 
so  pathetic  as  to  bring  tears  to  her  eyes,  and  cause  her  to 
deplore  her  own  lack  of  children  as  a  misfortune. 

As  the  weeks  slipped  away  and  Wilbur  realized  that, 
though  he  was  gaining  ground  in  his  profession,  more 
liberal  expenditures  were  still  out  of  the  question,  he 
reached  a  frame  of  mind  which  made  him  yearn  for 
a  means  of  relief.  So  it  happened  that,  when  Selma 
asked  him  once  more  why  he  did  not  follow  the  advice 
proffered  and  buy  some  stocks,  he  replied  by  smiling 
at  Gregory  and  inquiring  what  he  should  buy.  During 
the  dinner,  which  had  been  pleasant,  Wilbur's  eye  had 
been  attracted  by  the  brilliancy  of  some  new  jewels 
which  Mrs.  Williams  wore,  and  he  had  been  conscious 
of  the  wish  that  he  were  able  to  make  a  present  like 
that  to  his  own  wife. 

"  You  take  my  breath  away.  Wonders  will  never 
cease/'  responded  Gregory,  while  both  the  women 
clapped  their  hands.  "  But  you  musn't  buy  anything  ; 
you  must  sell/'  he  continued.  "  VanHorne  and  I  both 
came  to  the  conclusion  to-day  that  it  is  time  for  a  turn 
on  the  short  side  of  the  market.  When  the  public  are 
187 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

crazy  and  will  buy  any  thing,  then  is  the  time  to  let 
them  have  all  they  wish." 

"  What,  then,  am  I  to  sell  ?"  asked  Wilbur  "  I  am  a 
complete  lamb,  you  know."  He  was  already  sorry  that 
he  had  consented,  but  Selma's  manifest  interest  re- 
strained him  from  turning  the  matter  into  a  joke. 

"  Leave  it  all  to  me,"  said  Williams  with  a  magnifi- 
cent gesture. 

"But  you  will  need  some  money  from  me." 

"  Not  at  all.  If  you  would  feel  better,  you  may  send 
me  a  check  or  a  bond  for  a  thousand  dollars.  But  it 
isn't  necessary  in  your  case." 

"  I  will  bring  you  in  a  bond  to-morrow—one  of  the 
very  few  I  own." 

Wilbur  having  delivered  his  security  the  first  thing 
in  the  morning,  heard  nothing  further  from  Williams 
for  a  fortnight.  One  day  he  received  a  formal  account 
of  certain  transactions  executed  by  Williams  and  Van- 
Horne  for  Wilbur  Littleton,  Esq.,  and  a  check  for  two 
thousand  dollars.  The  flush  which  rose  to  his  cheeks 
was  induced  partly  by  pleasure,  partly  by  shame.  His 
inclination,  as  he  reflected,  was  to  return  the  check,  but 
he  recognized  presently  that  this  was  a  foolish  idea,  and 
that  the  only  thing  to  be  done  was  to  deposit  it.  He 
wrote  a  grateful  note  of  acknowledgment  to  Williams, 
and  then  gave  himself  up  to  the  agreeable  occupation  of 
thinking  what  he  should  buy  for  Selma  with  the  money. 
He  decided  not  to  tell  her  of  his  good  fortune,  but  to 
treat  her  to  a  surprise.  His  first  fancy  was  in  favor  of 
jewelry — some  necklace  or  lustrous  ornament  for  the 
hair,  which  would  charm  the  feminine  eye  and  might 
make  Selma  even  more  beautiful  than  she  already  ap- 
peared in  evening  dress.  His  choice  settled  on  a  horse 
188 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

and  buggy  as  more  genuinely  useful.  To  be  sure  there 
was  the  feed  of  the  animal  to  be  considered  ;  but  he 
would  be  able  to  reserve  sufficient  money  to  cover  this 
cost  for  some  months,  and  by  the  end  of  that  time  he 
would  perhaps  be  able  to  afford  the  outlay  from  his 
income.  Horse-flesh  and  vehicles  were  not  in  his  line, 
but  he  succeeded  by  investigation  in  procuring  a  modest 
equipment  for  seven  hundred  dollars,  which  left  him 
three  hundred  for  fodder,  and  the  other  thousand.  This 
he  had  decided  to  hand  over  to  Selma  as  pin  money.  It 
was  for  her  sake  that  he  had  consented  to  speculate,  and 
it  seemed  meet  that  she  should  have  the  satisfaction  of 
spending  it. 

He  carried  out  his  surprise  by  appearing  one  after- 
noon before  the  door  and  inviting  her  to  drive.  Selma 
became  radiant  at  the  news  that  the  horse  and  buggy 
were  hers,  though,  when  the  particulars  of  the  pur- 
chase were  disclosed  she  said  to  herself  that  she  wished 
Wilbur  had  allowed  her  to  choose  the  vehicle.  She 
would  have  preferred  one  more  stylish  and  less  domes- 
tic looking.  She  flung  her  arms  about  his  neck  and 
gave  him  a  kiss  on  their  return  to  show  her  satisfac- 
tion. 

"  You  see  how  easy  it  is,  Wilbur,"  she  said  as  she 
surveyed  the  check  which  he  had  handed  her. 

"It  was  not  I,  it  was  Williams/' 

"  No,  but  you  could,  if  you  would  only  think  so.  I 
have  the  greatest  confidence  in  you,  dear,"  she  added, 
looking  eagerly  into  his  face  ;  "  but  don't  you  sometimes 
go  out  of  your  way  to  avoid  what  is  enterprising  and — 
er — modern,  just  because  it  is  modern  ?" 

"  Gambling  is  as  old  as  the  hills,  Selma." 

:*  Yes.  And  if  this  were  gambling — the  sort  of  gam- 
189 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

bling  you  mean,  do  you  think  I  would  allow  you  to  do 
it  ?  Do  you  think  the  American  people  would  tolerate 
it  for  a  minute  ?  "  she  asked  triumphantly. 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  your  admiration  for  the  Ameri- 
can people  sometimes  makes  you  a  little  weak  in  your 
logic,"  he  answered  with  good-humor.  He  was  so 
pleased  by  Selma's  gratification  that  he  was  disposed  to 
exorcise  his  scruples. 

"  I  have  always  told  you  that  I  was  more  of  a  patriot 
than  you,  Wilbur." 

The  bond  had  not  been  returned  by  Williams  at  the 
time  he  sent  the  money,  and  some  fortnight  later — only 
a  few  days  in  fact  after  this  drive,  Littleton  received 
another  cheque  for  $500  and  a  request  that  he  call  at 
the  office. 

"  I  thought  yon  would  like  to  see  the  instruments  of 
torture  at  work— the  process  of  lamb-shearing  in  active 
operation/'  Williams  explained  as  he  shook  hands  and 
waved  him  into  his  private  room.  After  a  few  easy 
remarks  on  the  methods  of  doing  business  the  broker 
continued,  "  I  flatter  myself  that  for  so  small  an  invest- 
ment and  so  short  a  time,  I  have  done  tolerably  well  for 
you." 

"  I  scarcely  know  how  to  express  my  thanks  and  my 
admiration  for  your  skill.  Indeed  I  feel  rather 
awkwardly  about " 

"  That's  all  right,  my  dear  fellow.  It's  my  business  ; 
I  get  my  commission.  Still  I  admit  friendly  regard — 
and  this  is  why  I  suggested  your  dropping  in — by  intro- 
ducing the  personal  equation,  makes  one  nervous.  If 
instead  of  closing  out  your  account,  I  had  in  each 
instance  held  on,  yon  would  have  made  more  money. 
I  was  glad  to  take  this  responsibility  at  first  because 
190 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

yon  were  a  neophyte  at  the  business,  but  I  think  it  will 
be  more  satisfactory  both  for  you  and  for  me  that  in 
future  transactions  you  should  give  me  the  word  when 
to  reap  the  profit.  Of  course  you  shall  have  all  the  in- 
formation which  I  possess  and  my  advice  will  be  at  your 
command,  but  where  a  man's  money  is  concerned  his 
own  head  is  apt  to  be  the  wisest  counsellor.  Now  I 
took  the  liberty  yesterday  of  selling  for  you  two  hun- 
dred shares  of  Reading  railroad.  You  can  cover  to- 
day at  a  profit  of  one  point — about  $200.  I  do  not 
urge  it.  On  the  contrary  I  believe  that  the  market, 
barring  occasional  rallies,  is  still  on  the  downward  track. 
I  wish,  however,  to  put  you  in  a  position  where  you  can, 
if  you  desire,  take  advantage  of  the  full  opportunities 
of  the  financial  situation  and  save  myself  from  feeling 
that  I  have  robbed  you  by  my  friendly  caution." 

"  In  other  words  you  don't  wish  to  speculate  with  my 
money,"  said  Littleton.  "  You  wish  me  to  paddle  my 
own  canoe. " 

Williams'  real  desire  was  to  escape  the  bother  of  per- 
sonally superintending  an  insignificant  account.  His 
circumlocution  was  a  suave  way  of  stating  that  he  had 
done  all  that  could  be  expected  of  a  neighbor  and  benevo- 
lent friend,  and  that  the  ordinary  relation  of  broker  and 
customer  ought  now  be  established.  As  for  Littleton, 
he  perceived  that  he  was  not  free  to  retire  from  the 
market  on  the  profits  of  friendly  regard  unless  he  was 
prepared  to  fly  in  the  face  of  advice  and  buy  in  his  two 
hundred  Reading  railroad.  To  do  so  would  be  pusillan- 
imous ;  moreover  to  retire  and  abstain  from  further 
dealings  would  make  Williams'  two  cheques  more 
obviously  a  charitable  donation,  and  the  thought  of 
them  was  becoming  galling.  Above  all  there  were 
191 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Selma's  feelings  to  be  considered.  The  possession  oi 
the  means  to  afford  her  happiness  was  already  a  sweet 
argument  in  favor  of  further  experiments. 

And  so  it  happened  that  during  the  next  nine  months 
Littleton  became  a  frequenter  of  the  office  of  Williams  & 
VanHorne.  He  was  not  among  those  who  hung  over 
the  tape  and  were  to  be  seen  there  daily  ;  but  he  found 
himself  attracted  as  the  needle  by  the  magnet  to  look  in 
once  or  twice  a  week  to  ascertain  the  state  of  the  market. 
His  ventures  continued  to  be  small,  and  were  conducted 
under  the  ken  of  Williams,  and  though  the  occasional 
rallies  referred  to  by  the  broker  harassed  Wilbur's  spirit 
when  they  occurred,  the  policy  of  selling  short  proved 
reasonably  remunerative  in  the  course  of  half  a  dozen 
separate  speculations.  In  round  figures  he  added 
another  $2,500  to  that  which  Williams  had  made  for 
him.  The  process  kept  him  on  pins  and  needles,  and 
led  him  to  scan  the  list  of  stock  quotations  before  read- 
ing anything  else  in  the  newspaper.  Selma  was 
delighted  at  his  success,  and  though  he  chose  not  to  tell 
her  the  details  of  his  dealings,  she  watched  him  fur- 
tively, followed  the  general  tendency  of  the  market,  and 
when  she  perceived  that  he  was  in  good  spirits,  satisfied 
sufficiently  her  curiosity  by  questions. 

On  the  strength  of  this  addition  to  their  pecuniary 
resources,  Selma  branched  out  into  sundry  mild  extrav- 
agances. She  augmented  her  wardrobe,  engaged  an 
additional  house-maid  and  a  more  expensive  cook,  and 
entertained  with  greater  freedom  and  elaboration.  She 
was  fond  of  going  to  the  theatre  and  supping  afterward 
at  some  fashionable  restaurant  where  she  could  show  her 
new  plumage  and  be  a  part  of  the  gay,  chattering  rout 
%t  the  tables  consuming  soft-shelled  crabs  and  cham- 
192 


UNLEAVENED  BKEAD 

pagne.  She  was  gradually  increasing  her  acquaintance, 
chisfly  among  the  friends  of  the  Williamses,  people  who 
were  fond  of  display  and  luxury  and  who  seemed  to 
have  plenty  of  money.  In  this  connection  she  was  glad 
to  avail  herself  of  the  reputation  of  belonging  to  the 
literary  circle,  and  she  conceived  the  plan  of  mingling 
these  new  associates  with  Wilbur's  former  set — to  her 
thinking  a  delightful  scheme,  which  she  inaugurated  by 
means  of  a  dinner  party.  She  included  among  the 
guests  Pauline  and  Dr.  Page,  and  considered  that  she 
had  acted  gracefully  in  putting  them  side  by  .side  at 
table,  thus  sacrificing  the  theory  of  her  entertainment  to 
her  feminine  interest  in  romance.  In  her  opinion  it 
was  more  than  Pauline  deserved,  and  she  was  proud  of 
her  generosity.  There  were  fourteen  in  the  company, 
and  after  dinner  they  were  regaled  by  a  young  woman 
who  had  brought  a  letter  of  introduction  to  Selma  from 
Mrs.  Earle,  who  read  from  her  own  poems.  The  dinner 
was  given  for  her,  and  her  seat  was  between  Wilbur  and 
Mr.  Dennison,  the  magazine  editor.  Selma  had  attended 
a  dinner-party  at  the  Williamses  a  fortnight  earlier 
where  there  had  been  music  in  the  drawing-room  by  a 
ballad-singer  at  a  cost  of  $100  (so  Flossy  had  told  her  in 
confidence).  A  poetess  reading  from  her  own  works,  a 
guest  and  not  invited  in  after  dinner  on  a  business  foot- 
ing, appealed  to  Selma  as  more  American,  and  less 
expensive.  She,  in  her  secret  soul,  would  have  liked  to 
recite  herself,  but  she  feared  to  run  the  gauntlet  of  the 
New  York  manner.  The  verses  were  intense  in  charac- 
ter and  were  delivered  by  the  young  woman  with  a 
hollow-eyed  fervor  which,  as  one  of  the  non-literary  wing 
of  the  company  stated,  made  one  creep  and  weep  alter* 
nately  There  was  no  doubt  that  the  entertainment  was 
193 


UNLEAVENED  BKEAD 

novel  and  acceptable  to  the  commercial  element,  and  to 
Selma  it  seemed  a  delightful  reminder  of  the  Benham 
Institute.  She  was  curious  to  know  what  Mr.  Dennison 
thought,  though  she  said  to  herself  that  she  did  not 
really  care.  She  felt  that  anything  free  and  earnest  in 
the  literary  line  was  likely  to  be  frowned  on  by  the 
coterie  to  which  her  husband's  people  belonged.  Never- 
theless she  seized  an  opportunity  to  ask  the  editor  if  he 
did  not  think  the  verses  remarkable. 

"They  are  certainly  remarkable/'  answered  Mr. 
Dennison.  After  a  brief  pause  he  added,  "Being  a 
strictly  truthful  person,  Mrs.  Littleton,  I  do  not  wish 
to  seek  shelter  behind  the  rampart  which  your  word 
*  remarkable '  affords.  A  dinner  may  be  remarkable— 
remarkably  good,  like  the  one  I  have  just  eaten,  or 
remarkably  bad.  Some  editors  would  have  replied  to 
you  as  I  have  done,  and  yet  been  capable  of  a  mental 
reservation  unflattering  to  the  ambitious  young  woman 
to  whom  we  have  been  listening,  But  withou  t  wishing 
to  express  an  opinion,  let  me  remind  you  that  poetry, 
like  point-lace,  needs  close  scrutiny  before  its  merits 
can  be  defined.  I  thought  I  recognized  some  ancient 
and  well-worn  flowers  of  speech,  but  my  editorial  ear 
and  eye  may  have  been  deceived.  She  has  beautiful 
hair  at  all  events." 

u  4Fair  tresses  man's  Imperial  race  ensnare; 
And  beauty  draws  us  by  a  single  hair.' 

•  f  ou  cynical  personage  !  I  only  hope  she  may  prove 
,  genius  and  that  you  will  realize  when  too  late  that  you 
might  have  discovered  her,"  said  Selma,  looking  into 
his  face  brightly  with  a  knowing  smile  and  tapping  her 
fan  against  her  hand.  She  was  in  a  gay  humor  at  the 
194 


UNLEAVENED  BKEAD 

success  of  the  entertainment,  despite  the  non-committal 
attitude  of  this  censor,  and  pleased  at  the  appositeness 
of  her  quotation.  Her  figure  had  filled  out  since  her 
marriage.  She  was  almost  plump  and  she  wore  a  single 
short  fat  curl  pendent  behind  her  ear. 

A  few  months  subsequent  to  this  dinner  party  Flossy 
announced  one  day  that  Mr.  Silas  S.  Parsons,  whom 
Selma  had  seen  with  the  Williamses  at  the  theatre 
nearly  three  years  before,  had  come  to  live  in  New  York 
with  his  wife  and  daughter.  Flossy  referred  to  him 
eagerly  as  one  of  her  husband's  most  valuable  customers, 
a  shrewd,  sensible,  Western  business  man,  who  had 
made  money  in  patent  machinery  and  was  superbly 
rich.  He  had  gone  temporarily  to  a  hotel,  but  he  was 
intending  to  build  a  large  house  on  Fifth  Avenue  near 
the  park.  Selma  heard  this  announcement  with  keen 
interest,  asking  herself  at  once  why  Wilbur  should  not 
be  the  architect.  Why  not,  indeed  ?  She  promptly 
reasoned  that  here  was  her  chance  to  aid  her  husband  ; 
that  he,  if  left  to  his  own  devices,  would  do  nothing  to 
attract  the  magnate's  attention,  and  that  it  behooved 
her,  as  an  American  wife  and  a  wide-awake,  modern 
woman,  to  let  Mr.  Parsons  know  his  qualifications,  and 
to  prepossess  him  in  Wilbur's  favor  by  her  own  attrac- 
tions. The  idea  appealed  to  her  exceedingly.  She  had 
been  hoping  that  some  opportunity  to  take  an  active 
part  in  the  furtherance  of  Wilbur's  career  would  present 
itself,  for  she  felt  instinctively  that  with  her  co-operation 
he  would  make  more  rapid  progress.  Here  was  exactly  the 
occasion  longed  for.  She  saw  in  her  mind's  eye  Mr. 
Parsons's  completed  mansion,  stately  and  beautiful,  the 
admired  precursor  of  a  host  of  important  edifices — a 
revolutionizing  monument  in  contemporary  architecture. 
195 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Wilbur  would  become  the  fashion,  and  his  professional 
success  be  assured,  thanks  to  the  prompt  ability  of  his 
wife  to  take  advantage  of  circumstances.  So  she  would 
prove  herself  a  veritable  helpmate,  and  the  bond  of 
marital  sympathy  would  be  strengthened  and  refreshed. 

To  begin  with,  Selma  hinted  to  Mrs.  Williams  that  Mr. 
Parsons  might  do  worse  than  employ  Wilbur  to  design  his 
house.  Flossy  accepted  the  suggestion  with  enthusiasm 
and  promised  her  support,  adding  that  Mr.  Parsons  was  a 
person  of  sudden  and  strong  fancies,  and  that  if  he  were 
to  take  a  fancy  to  Wilbur,  the  desired  result  would  be 
apt  to  follow.  Selma  quickly  decided  that  Mr.  Par- 
sons must  be  made  to  like  her,  for  she  feared  lest 
Wilbur's  quiet,  undemonstrative  manner  would  fail  to 
attract  him.  Evidently  he  admired  the  self-confidence 
and  manly  assertion  of  Gregory  Williams,  and  would 
be  liable  to  regard  Wilbur  as  lacking  in  force  and 
enterprise.  The  reflection  that  she  would  thus  be 
working — as  necessarily  she  would— for  the  eternal 
progress  of  truth,  added  a  pleasant  savor  to  the  under- 
taking, for  it  was  clear  that  her  husband  was  an  ideal 
architect  for  the  purpose,  and  she  would  be  doing  a 
true  service  to  Mr.  Parsons  in  convincing  him  that  this 
was  so.  Altogether  her  soul  was  in  an  agreeable  flutter, 
notwithstanding  that  her  neighbor  Flossy  had  recently 
received  invitations  to  two  or  three  large  balls,  and  been 
referred  to  in  the  society  columns  of  the  newspapers  as 
the  fascinating  and  clever  wife  of  the  rising  banker 
Gregory  Williams. 

The  Littletons  were  promptly  given  by  Flossy  the 

opportunity  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  Parsons 

family.     Mr.  Parsons  was  a  ponderous  man  of  over  sixty, 

with  a  solid,  rotund,  grave  face  and  a  chin  whisker, 

196 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

He  was  absorbed  in  financial  interests,  though  he  had 
retired  from  active  business,  and  had  come  to  New 
York  to  live  chiefly  to  please  his  wife  and  daughter. 
Mrs.  Parsons,  who  was  somewhat  her  husband's  junior, 
was  a  devotee,  or  more  correctly,  a  debauchee,  of  hotel 
life.  Since  the  time  when  they  had  become  exceed- 
ingly rich,  about  ten  years  before,  they  had  made  a 
grand  tour  of  the  hotels  of  this  country  and  Europe. 
By  so  doing  Mrs.  Parsons  and  her  daughter  felt  that 
they  became  a  part  of  the  social  life  of  the  cities  which 
they  visited.  Although  they  had  been  used  to  plain, 
if  not  slovenly,  house-keeping  before  the  money  came, 
both  the  wife  and  daughter  had  evolved  into  connois- 
seurs of  modish  and  luxurious  hotel  apparatus  and 
garniture.  They  had  learned  to  revel  in  many  courses, 
radiantly  upholstered  parlors,  and  a  close  acquaintance 
with  the  hotel  register.  Society  for  them,  wherever 
they  went,  meant  finding  out  the  names  of  the  other 
guests  and  dressing  for  them,  being  on  easy  terms  with 
the  head  waiter  and  elevator  boy,  visiting  the  theatres, 
and  keeping  up  a  round  of  shopping  in*  pursuit  of 
articles  of  apparel.  They  wore  rich  garments  and  con- 
siderable jewelry,  and  plastered  themselves — especially 
the  daughter — with  bunches  of  violets  or  roses  self- 
bestowed.  Mrs.  Parsons  was  partial  to  perfume,  and 
they  both  were  addicted  to  the  free  consumption  of 
assorted  bonbons.  To  be  sure  they  had  made  some  ac- 
quaintances in  the  course  of  their  peregrinations,  but 
one  reason  for  moving  to  New  York  was  that  Mrs. 
Parsons  had  come  to  the  melancholy  conclusion  that 
neither  the  princes  of  Europe  nor  the  sons  of  American 
leading  citizens  were  paying  that  attention  to  her 
daughter  which  the  young  lady's  charms  seemed  to  her 
197 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

to  merit.  If  living  lavishly  in  hotels  and  feeing  every- 
body  right  and  left  were  not  the  high-road  to  elegant 
existence  and  hence  to  a  brilliant  match  for  Lncretia, 
Mrs.  Parsons  was  ready  to  try  the  effect  of  a  house  on 
Fifth  Avenue,  though  she  preferred  the  comforts  of 
her  present  mode  of  life.  Still  one  advantage  of  a 
stable  home  would  be  that  Mr.  Parsons  could  be  con- 
stantly with  them,  instead  of  an  occasional  and  inter- 
mittent visitor  communicated  with  more  frequently  by 
electricity  than  by  word  of  mouth.  While  Mr.  Parsons 
was  selecting  the  land,  she  and  Lucretia  had  abandoned 
themselves  to  an  orgy  of  shopping,  and  with  an  eye  to 
the  new  house,  their  rooms  at  the  hotel  were  already 
littered  with  gorgeous  fabrics,  patterns  of  wall-paper 
and  pieces  of  pottery. 

Selma's  facility  in  the  New  York  manner  was  prac- 
tised on  Silas  Parsons  with  flattering  success.  He  was 
captivated  by  her — more  so  than  by  Flossy,  who  amused 
him  as  a  flibbertigibbet,  but  who  seemed  to  him  to  lack 
the  serious  cast  of  character  which  he  felt  that  he  dis- 
cerned beneath  the  sprightliness  of  this  new  charmer. 
Mr.  Parsons  was  what  he  called  a  "  stickler"  for  the 
dignity  of  a  serious  demeanor.  He  liked  to  laugh  at  the 
theatre,  but  mistrusted  a  daily  point  of  view  which 
savored  of  buffoonery.  He  was  fond  of  saying  that 
more  than  one  public  man  in  the  United  States  had 
come  to  grief  politically  from  being  a  joker,  and  that 
the  American  people  could  not  endure  flippancy  in  their 
representatives.  He  liked  to  tell  and  listen  to  humor- 
ous stories  in  the  security  of  a  smoking-room,  but  in  his 
opinion  it  behooved  a  citizen  to  maintain  a  dignified 
bearing  before  the  world.  Like  other  self-made  men 
who  had  come  to  New  York— like  Selma  herself— he 
198 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

nad  shrunk  from  and  deplored  at  first  the  lighter  tone 
of  casual  speech.  Still  he  had  grown  used  to  it,  and 
had  even  come  to  depend  on  it  as  an  amusement.  But 
he  felt  that  in  the  case  of  Selma  there  was  a  basis  of 
ethical  earnestness,  appropriate  to  woman,  beneath  her 
chatty  flow  of  small  talk.  That  she  was  comparatively 
a  new-comer  accounted  partially  for  this  impression,  but 
it  was  mainly  due  to  the  fact  that  she  still  reverted 
after  her  sallies  of  pleasantry  to  a  grave  method  of  de- 
portment. 

Selma's  chief  hospitality  toward  the  Parsonses  took 
che  form  of  a  theatre  party,  which  included  a  supper  at 
Delmonico's  after  the  play.  It  was  an  expensive  kind 
of  entertainment,  which  she  felt  obliged  to  justify  to 
Wilbur  by  the  assertion  that  the  Williamses  had  been  so 
civil  she  considered  it  would  be  only  decent  to  show 
attention  to  their  friends.  She  was  unwilling  to  dis- 
close her  secret,  lest  the  knowledge  of  it  might  make 
Wilbur  offish  and  so  embarrass  her  efforts.  There  were 
eight  in  the  party,  and  the  affair  seemed  to  Selma  to  go 
off  admirably.  She  was  enthralled  by  the  idea  of  using 
her  own  personal  magnetism  to  promote  her  husband's 
business.  She  felt  that  it  was  just  the  sort  of  thing  she 
would  like  and  was  fitted  for,  and  that  here  was  an  op- 
portunity for  her  individuality  to  display  itself.  She 
devoted  herself  with  engaging  assiduity  to  Mr.  Parsons, 
pleased  during  the  active  process  of  propitiation  by  the 
sub-consciousness  that  her  table  was  one  of  the  centres 
of  interest  in  the  large  restaurant.  She  had  dressed 
herself  with  formal  care,  and  nothing  in  the  way  of 
compliment  could  have  gratified  her  more  than  the  re- 
mark which  Mr.  Parsons  made,  as  he  regarded  her  ap- 
preciatively, when  he  had  finished  his  supper,  that  she 
199 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

suggested  his  idea  of  Columbia.  Selma  glowed  with 
satisfaction.  The  comparison  struck  her  as  apt  and  ap- 
propriate, and  she  replied  with  a  proud  erection  of  her 
head,  which  imparted  to  her  features  their  transcenden- 
tal look,  and  caused  her  short  curl  to  joggle  tremu- 
lously, "  I  suppose  I  see  what  you  mean,  Mr.  Parsons/' 


200 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ONE  evening,  four  or  five  days  after  this  supper  party, 
Wilbur  laid  down  the  book  which  he  was  pretending  to 
read,  and  said,  "  Selma,  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  I  must  give  up  dabbling  in  stocks.  I  am  being 
injured  by  it — not  financially,  for,  as  you  know,  I  have 
made  a  few  thousand  dollars — but  morally." 

"  I  thought  you  were  convinced  that  it  was  not  im- 
moral," answered  Selma,  in  a  constrained  voice. 

"  I  do  not  refer  to  whether  speculation  is  justifiable 
in  itself,  but  to  its  effect  on  me  as  an  individual — its 
distraction  to  my  mind  and  consequent  interference  with 
my  professional  work." 

"  Oh." 

"  For  a  year  now,  the  greater  portion  of  the  time,  I 
have  had  some  interest  in  the  market,  and  as  a  conse- 
quence, have  felt  impelled  to  look  in  on  Williams  and 
VanHorne  every  day — sometimes  oftener.  I  am  unable 
to  dismiss  my  speculations  from  my  thoughts.  I  find 
myself  wondering  what  has  happened  to  the  stocks  I  am 
carrying,  and  I  am  satisfied  that  the  practice  is  thor- 
oughly demoralizing  to  my  self-respect  and  to  my  prog- 
ress. I  am  going  to  give  it  up." 

"  I  suppose  you  must  give  it  up  if  it  affects  you  like 
that,"  responded  Selma  drily.  "  I  don't  see  exactly  why 
it  should." 

"  It  may  seem  foolish  to  you,  but  I  am  unable  to  put 
201 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

my  ventures  out  of  ray  mind.  The  consequences  of  loss 
would  be  so  serious  to  me  that  I  suppose  my  imagina- 
tion becomes  unduly  active  and  apprehensive.  Also,  I 
find  myself  eager  to  secure  large  gains.  I  must  re- 
nounce Aladdin's  lamp  from  this  day  forth,  my  dear, 
and  trust  to  my  legitimate  business  for  my  income." 

Selma  folded  her  hands  and  looked  grave.  "It's 
disappointing  that  you  feel  so  just  when  we  are  be- 
ginning to  get  on,  Wilbur." 

"  I  have  realized,  Selma,  that  you  have  enjoyed  and 
— er — been  made  happier  by  the  freedom  to  spend 
which  this  extra  money  has  afforded  you.  But  I  know, 
when  you  reflect,  you  will  understand  that  I  am  right, 
and  that  it  would  be  disastrous  to  both  of  us  if  I  were 
to  continue  to  do  what  I  believe  demoralizing.  It  is  a 
mortification  to  me  to  ask  you  to  retrench,  but  I  said 
to  myself  that  Selma  would  be  the  first  to  insist  on  our 
doing  so  if  she  knew  my  feelings,  and  it  makes  me 
happy  to  be  sure  of  your  approval." 

Littleton  spoke  with  a  tender  plaintiveness  which  be- 
trayed that  in  his  secret  soul  he  was  less  confident  on  this 
scoie  than  his  words  declared,  or  than  he  himself  sup- 
posed. "  Of  course,"  he  added,  earnestly,  "  I  shall  hope 
that  it  will  not  make  much  difference.  My  business  is 
slowly,  but  steadily,  improving,  and  I  am  doing  more 
this  year  than  last.  I  am  bending  all  my  energies  on  my 
plans  for  Wetmore  College.  If  I  win  in  that  competition, 
I  shall  make  a  reputation  and  a  respectable  commission." 

"  You  have  been  on  those  plans  three  months." 

"  Yes,  and  shall  not  finish  them  for  another  two.     I 
wish  to  do  my  best  work,  and  I  shall  be  glad  not  to  hear 
quotations  of  the  ticker  in  my  brain.     You  desire  me 
to  be  thorough,  surely,  Selma  mia  ?" 
202 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"  Oh,  yes.  Only,  yon  know  people  very  often  spoil 
things  by  pottering  over  them." 

"I  never  potter.  I  reject  because  I  am  dissatisfied 
rather  than  offer  a  design  which  does  not  please  me, 
but  I  do  not  waste  my  time." 

"  Call  it  over-conscientiousness  then.  I  wish  you  to 
do  your  best  work,  of  course,  but  one  can't  expect  to  do 
best  work  invariably.  Everything  was  going  so  nicely 
that  you  must  perceive  it  will  be  inconvenient  to  have 
to  economize  as  we  did  before." 

Littleton  looked  at  his  wife  with  a  glance  of  loving 
distress.  "  You  wouldn't  really  care  a  button.  I  know 
you  wouldn't,  Selma,"  he  said,  stoutly. 

"  Of  course  not,  if  it  were  necessary,"  she  answered. 
"  Only  I  don't  wish  to  do  so  unless  it  is  necessary.  I  am 
not  controverting  your  decision  about  the  stocks,  though 
I  think  your  imagination,  as  you  say,  is  to  blame.  I 
would  rather  cut  my  right  hand  off  than  persuade  you 
to  act  contrary  to  your  conscience.  But  it  is  inconven- 
ient, Wilbur,  yon  must  admit,  to  give  up  the  things  we 
have  become  accustomed  to." 

"  We  shall  be  able  to  keep  the  horse.  I  am  certain  of 
that." 

"  I  wish  you  to  see  my  side  of  it.  Say  that  you  do," 
she  said,  with  shrill  intensity. 

"  It  is  because  I  do  see  it  that  I  am  troubled,  Selma. 
For  myself  I  am  no  happier  now  than  I  was  when  we 
lived  more  simply.  I  can't  believe  that  you  will  really 
find  it  a  hardship  to  deny  yourself  such  extravagances 
as  our  theatre  party  last  week.  Being  a  man,"  he  added, 
after  a  pause,  "I  suppose  I  may  not  appreciate  how  im- 
portant and  seductive  some  of  these  social  observances 
appear  to  a  woman,  and  heaven  knows  my  chief  wish  io 
203 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

life  ib  to  do  everything  in  my  power  to  make  you  happy. 
You  must  be  aware  of  that,  dearest.  I  delight  to  work 
hard  for  your  sake.  But  it  seems  almost  ludicrous  to 
be  talking  of  social  interests  to  you,  of  all  women. 
Why,  at  the  time  we  were  married,  I  feared  that  you 
would  cut  yourself  off  from  reasonable  pleasures  on  ac- 
count of  your  dislike  of  everything  frivolous.  I  remem- 
ber I  encouraged  you  not  to  take  too  ascetic  a  view  of 
such  things.  So  I  am  bound  to  believe  that  your  side 
is  my  side— that  we  both  will  find  true  happiness  in  not 
attempting  to  compete  with  people  whose  tastes  are  not 
our  tastes,  and  whose  aims  are  not  our  aims." 

"  Then  you  think  I  have  deteriorated,"  she  said,  with 
a  superior  smile. 

"  I  think  of  you  as  the  most  conscientious  woman  I 
ever  met.  It  was  only  natural  that  you  should  be 
spurred  by  our  neighbors,  the  Williamses,  to  make  a 
better  showing  socially  before  the  world.  I  have  been 
glad  to  see  you  emulous  up  to  a  certain  point.  You  must 
realize  though,  that  we  cannot  keep  pace  with  them, 
even  if  we  so  desire.  Already  they  are  in  the  public 
eye.  He  appears  to  have  made  considerable  money,  and 
his  views  on  the  stock-market  are  given  prominence  by 
the  press.  He  and  his  wife  are  beginning  to  be  recog- 
nized by  people  who  were  ignorant  of  their  existence 
four  years  ago.  You  told  me  last  week  that  Mrs. 
Williams  had  attended  one  of  the  fashionable  balls,  and 
I  saw  in  yesterday's  newspaper  a  description  of  her 
toilette  at  another.  It  begins  to  look  as  if,  in  a  few 
years  more,  their  ambition  might  be  realized,  and  the 
doors  of  the  Morton  Price  mansion  open  wide  to  admit 
this  clever  country  cousin  to  the  earthly  paradise.  It 
be  evident  to  you,  Selma,  that  very  shortly  we 
204 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

shall  see  only  the  dust  of  their  chariot- wheels  in  the 
dim  social  distance.  Williams  told  me  to-day  that  he 
has  bought  a  house  near  the  park." 

"  He  has  bought  a  new  house  ?  They  are  going  to 
move  ?"  exclaimed  Selma,  sitting  up  straight,  and  with 
a  fierce  light  in  her  eyes. 

"  Yes.  He  was  going  home  to  tell  his  wife.  It  seems 
that  they  have  been  talking  vaguely  of  moving  for  some 
rime.  An  acquaintance  happened  to  offer  him  a  house, 
and  Williams  closed  the  bargain  on  the  spot  in  his 
customary  chain-lightning  style.  I  shall  be  sorry  to 
nave  them  go  on  some  accounts,  for  they  have  always 
been  friendly,  and  you  seem  fond  of  the  wife,  but  we 
.shall  find  it  easier,  perhaps,  when  they  are  gone,  to  live 
according  to  our  own  ideas." 

"  Flossy  has  not  been  quite  so  nice  lately/'  said  Selma ; 
"  I  am  afraid  she  is  disposed  to  put  on  airs." 

"Her  head  may  have  been  turned  by  her  success. 
She  has  a  kind  heart,  but  a  giddy  brain  in  spite  of  its 
cleverness. " 

"  Flossy  has  been  getting  on,  of  course.  But  so  are 
we  getting  on.  Why  should  they  be  recognized,  as  you 
call  it,  any  more  than  we  ?  In  time,  I  mean.  Not  in 
the  same  way,  perhaps,  since  you  don't  approve  of  the 
sort  of  things " 

"  Since  I  don't  approve  ?    Why,  Selma,  surely " 

"  Since  we  don't  approve,  then.  I  only  mean  that 
Gregory  Williams  has  shown  initiative,  has  pushed  ahead, 
and  is — er — the  talk  of  the  town.  I  expect  you  to  be 
successful,  too.  Is  there  any  reason  on  earth  why  the 
door  of  the  Morton  Prices  should  open  wide  to  her  and 
not  to  me  ?  " 

"I  suppose  not,  if — if  you  wish  it" 
205 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

She  made  a  gesture  of  impatience  and  gazed  at  him  a 
moment  with  an  imperious  frown,  then  suddenly,  with 
the  litheness  of  a  cat,  she  slipped  from  her  chair  to  the 
floor  at  his  feet,  and  leaning  against  his  knee,  looked 
up  into  his  face. 

"  You  dear  hoy,  I  am  going  to  tell  you  something. 
You  said  to  me  once  that  if  ever  the  time  came  when  I 
thought  you  visionary,  I  was  to  let  you  know.  Of  course 
I  understand  you  are  worth  a  thousand  Gregorys ;  but 
don't  you  think  yon  would  get  on  faster  if  you  were  a 
little  more  aggressive  in  your  work  ? — if  you  weren't  so 
afraid  of  heing  superficial  or  sensational  ?  You  were 
intimating  a  few  minutes  ago/'  she  added,  speaking 
rapidly  under  the  stress  of  the  message  she  burned  to 
deliver,  "  that  I  seemed  changed.  I  don't  believe  I  am 
changed.  But,  if  I  seem  different,  it  is  because  I  feel  so 
strongly  that  those  who  wish  to  succeed  must  assert 
themselves  and  seize  opportunities.  There  is  where  it 
seems  to  me  that  Mr.  Williams  has  the  advantage  over 
you,  Wilbur.  One  of  the  finest  and  most  significant 
qualities  of  our  people,  you  know,  is  their  enterprise 
and  aggressiveness.  Architecture  isn't  like  the  stock 
business,  but  the  same  theory  of  progress  must  be  ap- 
plicable to  both.  Don't  you  think  I  may  be  right,  Wil- 
bur ?  Don't  you  see  what  I  mean  ?  " 

He  stroked  her  hair  and  answered  gently,  "  What  is  it 
that  1  am  not  doing  which  you  think  I  might  do  ?  " 

Selma  snuggled  close  to  him,  and  put  her  hand  in  his. 
She  was  vibrating  with  the  proud  consciousness  of  the 
duty  vouchsafed  to  her  to  guide  and  assist  the  man  she 
loved.  It  was  a  blissful  and  a  precious  moment  to  her. 
"  If  I  were  you,"  she  said,  solemnly,  "  I  should  build 
something  striking  and  original,  something  which  would 
206 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

make  everyone  who  beheld  it  ask,  '  what  is  the  archi. 
tect's  name  ? '  I  would  strike  out  boldly  without  caring 
too  much  what  the  critics  and  the  people  of  Europe 
would  say.  You  musn't  be  too  afraid,  Wilbur,  of  pro- 
ducing something  American,  and  you  mustn't  be  too 
afraid  of  the  American  ways  of  doing  things.  We  work 
more  quickly  here  in  everything,  and — and  I  still  can't 
help  feeling  that  you  potter  a  little.  Necessarily  I  don't 
know  about  the  details  of  your  business,  but  if  I  were 
you,  instead  of  designing  small  buildings  or  competing 
for  colleges  and  churches,  where  more  than  half  the 
time  someone  else  gets  the  award,  I  should  make  friends 
with  the  people  who  live  in  those  fine  houses  on  Fifth 
Avenue,  and  get  an  order  to  design  a  splendid  residence 
for  one  of  them.  If  you  were  to  make  a  grand  success 
of  that,  as  you  surely  would,  your  reputation  would  be 
made.  You  ask  me  why  I  like  to  entertain  and  am  will- 
ing to  know  people  like  that.  It  is  to  help  you  to  get 
clients  and  to  come  to  the  front  professionally.  Now 
isn't  that  sensible  and  practical  and  right,  too  ?  " 

Her  voice  rang  triumphantly  with  the  righteousness 
of  her  plea. 

"  Selma,  dear,  if  I  am  not  worldly-wise  enough,  I  am 
glad  to  listen  to  your  suggestions.  But  art  is  not  to  be 
hurried.  I  cannot  vulgarize  my  art.  I  could  not  con- 
sent to  that/' 

"  Of  course  not,  Wilbur.  Not  worldly-wise  enough 
is  just  the  phrase,  I  think.  You  are  so  absorbed  in  the 
theory  of  fine  things  that  I  am  sure  you  often  let  the 
practical  opportunities  to  get  the  fine  things  to  do  slip." 

"Perhaps,  dear.  I  will  try  to  guard  against  it."  Wil- 
bur took  her  hands  in  his  and  looked  down  tenderly 
into  her  face.  His  own  was  a  little  weary.  "  Above 
207 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

everything  else  in  life  I  wish  to  make  yon  happy/*  he 
said. 

"  I  am  happy,  yon  dear  boy." 

"  Truly  ?" 

"  Yes,  trnly.  And  if  something  happens  which  I  am 
nearly  sure  will  happen,  I  shall  be  happier  still.  It's  a 
secret,  and  I  mustn't  tell  you,  but  if  it  does  happen, 
yon  can't  help  agreeing  that  your  wife  has  been  clever 
and  has  helped  you  in  your  profession." 

"  Helped  me  ?  Ah,  Selma,"  he  said,  folding  her  in 
his  arms,  "  I  don't  think  you  realize  how  much  you  are 
to  me.  In  this  modern  world,  what  with  self-conscious- 
ness, and  shyness  and  contemporary  distaste  for  fulsome 
expression,  it  is  difficult  to  tell  adequately  those  we  love 
how  we  feel  toward  them.  You  are  my  darling  and  my 
inspiration.  The  sun  rises  and  sets  with  you,  and  un- 
less yon  were  happy,  I  could  never  be.  Each  man  in 
this  puzzling  world  must  live  according  to  his  own 
lights,  and  I,  according  to  mine,  am  trying  to  make  the 
most  of  myself,  consistent  with  self-respect  and  avoid- 
ance of  the  low  human  aims  and  time-serving  methods 
upon  which  our  new  civilization  is  supposed  to  frown. 
If  I  am  neglecting  my  lawful  opportunities,  if  I  am  fail- 
ing to  see  wisely  and  correctly,  I  shall  be  grateful  for 
counsel.  Ah,  Selma,  for  your  sake,  even  more  than  for 
my  own,  I  grieve  that  we  have  no  children.  A  baby's 
hands  would,  I  fancy,  be  the  best  of  counsellors  and 
enlighteners." 

"  If  children  had  come  at  first,  it  would  have  been 
very  nice.  But  now — now  I  think  they  might  stand  in 
the  way  of  my  being  of  help  to  you.  And  I  am  so 
anxious  to  help  you,  Wilbur." 

As  «   result  of  this  conversation  Littleton  devoted 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

himself  more  assiduously  than  ever  to  his  work.  He 
was  eager  to  increase  his  earnings  so  that  his  income 
should  not  be  curtailed  by  his  decision  to  avoid  further 
ventures  in  the  stock-market.  He  was  troubled  in  soul, 
for  Selma's  accusation  that  he  was  visionary  haunted 
him.  Could  it  be  that  he  was  too  scrupulous,  too  un- 
compromising, and  lacked  proper  enterprise  ?  Self- 
scrutiny  failed  to  convince  him  that  this  was  so,  yet  left 
a  lurking  doubt  which  was  harassing.  His  clear  mind 
was  too  modest  to  believe  in  its  own  infallibility,  for  he 
was  psychologist  enough  to  understand  that  no  one  can 
be  absolutely  sure  that  his  perspective  of  life  is  accurate. 
Possibly  he  was  sacrificing  his  wife's  legitimate  aspira- 
tions to  too  rigid  canons  of  behavior,  and  to  an  uncon- 
scious lack  of  initiative.  On  the  other  hand,  as  a 
positive  character,  he  believed  that  he  saw  clearly,  and 
he  could  not  avoid  the  reflection  that,  if  this  was  the 
case,  he  and  Selma  were  drifting  apart — the  more  bitter 
alternative  of  the  two,  and  a  condition  which,  if  per- 
petuated, would  involve  the  destruction  of  the  scheme 
of  matrimonial  happiness,  the  ideal  communion  of  two 
sympathetic  souls,  in  which  he  was  living  as  a  proud 
partner.  Apparently  he  was  in  one  of  two  predica- 
ments ;  either  he  was  self  deceived,  which  was  abhorrent 
to  him  as  a  thoughtful  grappler  with  the  eternal  myster- 
ies, or  he  had  misinterpreted  the  character  of  the  woman 
whose  transcendent  quality  was  a  dearer  faith  to  him 
than  the  integrity  of  his  own  manhood. 

So  it  was  with  a  troubled  heart  that  he  applied  him- 
self to  more  rigorous  professional  endeavor.  Like  most 
architects  he  had  pursued  certain  lines  of  work  because 
orders  had  come  to  him,  and  the  chances  of  employ- 
ment had  ordained  that  his  services  should  be  sought 
209 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

for  small  chnrches,  school-houses  and  kindred  buildings 
in  the  surrounding  country  rather  than  for  more  elabo- 
rate and  costly  structures.  On  these  undertakings  it  was 
his  habit  to  expend  abundant  thought  and  devotion. 
The  class  of  work  was  to  his  taste,  for,  though  the  funds 
at  his  disposal  were  not  always  so  large  as  he  desired  for 
artistic  effects,  yet  he  enjoyed  the  opportunity  of  show- 
ing that  simplicity  need  not  be  homely  and  disenchant- 
ing, but  could  wear  the  aspect  of  grace  and  poetry. 
Latterly  he  had  been  requested  to  furnish  designs  for 
some  blocks  of  houses  in  the  outlying  wards  of  the  city, 
where  the  owners  sought  to  provide  attractive,  modern 
flats  for  people  with  moderate  means.  Various  commis- 
sions had  come  to  him,  also,  to  design  decorative  work, 
which  interested  him  and  gave  scope  to  his  refined  and 
aspiring  imagination,  and  he  was  enthusiastically  ab- 
sorbed in  preparing  his  competitive  plans  for  the  build- 
ing of  Wetmore  College.  His  time  was  already  well  oc- 
cupied by  the  matters  which  he  had  in  hand.  That  is, 
he  had  enough  to  do  and  yet  did  not  feel  obliged  to  deny 
himself  the  luxury  of  deliberate  thoroughness  in  connec- 
tion with  each  professional  undertaking.  Save  for  the 
thought  that  he  must  needs  earn  more  in  order  to  please 
Selma,  he  would  have  been  completely  happy  in  the 
slow  but  flattering  growth  of  his  business,  and  in  feeling 
his  way  securely  toward  greater  success.  Now,  however, 
he  began  to  ask  himself  it  it  were  not  possible  to  hasten 
this  or  that  piece  of  work  in  order  to  afford  himself  the 
necessary  leisure  for  new  employment.  He  began  also 
to  consider  whether  he  might  not  be  able,  without  loss 
of  dignity,  to  put  himself  in  the  way  of  securing  more 
important  clients.  To  solicit  business  was  not  to  be 
thought  of,  but  now  and  again  he  put  the  question  to 
210 


UNLEAVENED  BBEAD 

to  himself  whether  he  had  not  been  too  indifferent  as  to 
who  was  who,  and  what  was  what,  in  the  development 
of  his  business. 

While  Littleton  was  thus  mulling  over  existing  con- 
ditions, and  subjecting  his  conduct  to  the  relentless  lens 
of  his  own  conscience  and  theories,  Selma  announced  to 
him  jubilantly,  about  a  fortnight  subsequent  to  their 
conversation,  that  her  secret  was  a  secret  no  longer,  and 
that  Mr.  Parsons  desired  to  employ  him  to  build  an  im- 
posing private  residence  on  Fifth  Avenue  near  the  Park. 
Mr.  Parsons  confirmed  this  intelligence  on  the  following 
day  in  a  personal  interview.  He  informed  Littleton 
that  he  was  going  to  build  in  order  to  please  his  wife 
and  daughter,  and  intimated  that  expense  need  not 
stand  in  the  way  of  the  gratification  of  their  wishes.  After 
the  business  matters  were  disposed  of  he  was  obviously 
ready  to  intrust  all  the  artistic  details  to  his  architect. 
Consequently  Littleton  enjoyed  an  agreeable  quarter  of 
an  hour  of  exaltation.  He  was  pleased  at  the  pros- 
pect of  building  a  house  of  this  description,  and  the 
hope  of  being  able  to  give  free  scope  to  his  architectural 
bent  without  molestation  made  that  prospect  roseate. 
He  could  desire  no  better  opportunity  for  expressing  his 
ideas  and  proving  his  capacity.  It  was  an  ideal  chance, 
and  his  soul  thrilled  as  he  called  up  the  shadowy  fabric 
of  scheme  after  scheme  to  fill  the  trial  canvas  of  his  fan- 
tasy. Nor  did  he  fail  to  award  due  credit  to  Selma  for 
her  share  in  the  transaction  ;  not  to  the  extent,  perhaps, 
of  confessing  incapacity  on  his  own  part,  but  by  testify- 
ing lovingly  to  her  cleverness.  She  was  in  too  good 
humor  at  her  success  to  insist  on  his  humiliation  in  set 
terms.  The  two  points  in  which  she  was  most  vitally 
interested — the  advantage  of  her  own  interference  and 
211 


UNLEAVENED  BKEAD 

the  consequent  prompt  extension  of  her  husband's  field 
of  usefulness— had  been  triumphantly  proved,  and  there 
was  no  need  that  the  third— Wilbur's  lack  of  capacity 
to  battle  and  discriminate  for  himself— should  be  empha- 
sized. Selma  knew  what  she  thought  in  her  own  mind, 
and  she  entertained  the  hope  that  this  lesson  might  be 
a  lamp  to  his  feet  for  future  illumination.  She  was 
even  generous  enough  to  exclaim,  placing  her  hands  on 
his  shoulders  and  looking  into  his  face  with  complacent 
fervor  : 

"  You  might  have  accomplished  it  just  as  well  your- 
self, Wilbur." 

Littleton  shook  his  head  and  smiled.  "It  was  a  case 
of  witchery  and  fascination.  He  probably  divined  how 
eager  you  were  to  help  me,  and  he  was  glad  to  yield  to 
the  agreeable  spell  of  your  wifely  devotion." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Selma.  "  I  am  sure  he  never  guessed 
for  one  moment  of  what  I  was  thinking.  Of  course,  I 
did  try  to  make  him  like  me,  but  that  was  only  sensible. 
To  make  people  like  one  is  the  way  to  get  business,  I 
believe." 

Littleton's  quarter  of  an  hour  of  exaltation  was  rudely 
checked  by  a  note  from  Mrs.  Parsons,  requesting  an  in- 
terview in  regard  to  the  plans.  When  he  presented  him- 
self he  found  her  and  her  daughter  imbued  with  definite 
ideas  on  the  subject  of  architects  and  architecture.  In 
the  eyes  of  Mrs.  Parsons  the  architect  of  her  projected 
house  was  nothing  but  a  young  man  in  the  employ  of 
her  husband,  who  was  to  guide  them  as  to  measure- 
ments, carpentry,  party- walls  and  plumbing,  but  was 
otherwise  to  do  her  bidding  for  a  pecuniary  considera- 
tion, on  the  same  general  basis  as  the  waiter  at  the  hotel 
or  the  theatre  ticket-agent.  As  to  architecture,  she  ex- 
212 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

pected  him  to  draw  plans  just  as  she  expected  dealers  in 
carpets  or  wall-papers  to  show  her  patterns  in  easy  suc- 
cession. "  I  don't  care  for  that ;  take  it  away."  "  That 
is  rather  pretty,  but  let  me  see  something  else."  What 
she  said  to  Littleton  was,  "  We  haven't  quite  decided 
yet  what  we  want,  but,  if  you'll  bring  some  plans  the 
next  time  you  call,  we'll  let  you  know  which  we  like 
best.  There's  a  house  in  Vienna  I  saw  once,  which  I 
said  at  the  time  to  Lucretia  I  would  copy  if  I  ever  built. 
I've  mislaid  the  photograph  of  it,  but  I  may  be  able  to 
tell  you  when  I  see  your  drawings  how  it  differed  from 
yours.  Lucretia  has  a  fancy  for  something  Moorish  or 
Oriental.  I  guess  Mr.  Parsons  would  prefer  brown- 
stone,  plain  and  massive,  but  he  has  left  it  all  to  us, 
and  both  daughter  and  I  think  we'd  rather  have  a 
house  which  would  speak  for  itself,  and  not  be  mixed 
up  with  everybody  else's.  You'd  better  bring  us  half 
a  dozen  to  choose  from,  and  between  me  and  yon 
and  Lucretia,  we'll  arrive  at  something  elegant  and 
unique." 

This  was  sadly  disillusionizing  to  Littleton,  and  the 
second  experience  was  no  less  so.  The  refined  outline 
sketches  proffered  by  him  were  unenthusiastically  sur- 
veyed and  languidly  discarded  like  so  many  wall-papers. 
It  was  evident  that  both  the  mother  and  daughter  were 
disappointed,  and  Littleton  presently  divined  that  their 
chief  objection  was  to  the  plainness  of  the  several  de- 
signs. This  was  made  unmistakably  obvious  when  Mrs. 
Parsons,  after  exhibiting  a  number  of  photographs  of 
foreign  public  buildings  with  which  she  had  armed  her- 
self, surveyed  the  most  ornate,  holding  it  out  with  her 
head  on  one  side,  and  exclaimed  impressively,  "  This  ig 
more  the  sort  of  thing  we  should  like.  I  think  Me. 
213 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Parsons  has  already  explained  to  yon  that  he  desired  our 
honse  to  be  as  handsome  as  possible." 

"  I  had  endeavored  to  bear  that  in  mind,"  Littleton 
retorted  with  spirit.  "I  believe  that  either  of  these 
plans  would  give  you  a  house  which  would  be  handsome, 
interesting  and  in  good  taste." 

"It  does  not  seem  tome  that  there  is  anything  unique 
about  any  of  them,"  said  Mrs.  Parsons,  with  a  cold  sniff 
intended  to  be  conclusive.  Nor  did  Littleton's  efforts 
to  explain  that  elaboration  in  a  private  residence  was 
liable  to  detract  from  architectural  dignity  and  to  pro- 
duce the  effect  of  vulgarity  fall  upon  receptive  soil. 
The  rich  man's  wife  listened  in  stony  silence,  at  times 
raising  her  lorgnette  to  examine  as  a  curiosity  this  young 
man  who  was  telling  her — an  American  woman  who  had 
travelled  around  the  world  and  seen  everything  to  be 
seen — how  she  ought  to  build  her  own  house.  The  up- 
shot of  this  interview  was  that  Littleton  was  sent  away 
with  languid  instructions  to  try  again.  He  departed, 
thinking  melancholy  thoughts  and  with  fire  in  his  soul, 
which,  for  Selma's  sake,  he  endeavored  to  keep  out  of 
his  eyes. 


CHAPTER  Vin. 

I'HB  departure  of  the  Williamses  to  a  smarter  neigh- 
borhood was  a  trial  for  Selma.  She  nursed  the  dispirit- 
ing reflection  that  she  and  Wilbur  might  just  as  well  be 
moving  also  ;  that  a  little  foresight  and  shrewdness  on 
her  husband's  part  would  have  enabled  him  to  sell  at  a 
handsome  profit  the  house  in  which  they  were  living ; 
and  that  there  was  no  reason,  except  the  sheer,  happy 
faculty  of  making  the  most  of  opportunities,  to  account 
for  the  social  recognition  which  Flossy  and  her  husband 
were  beginning  to  receive.  It  had  not  been  easy  to  bear 
with  equanimity  during  the  last  year  the  ingenuous, 
light-hearted  warblings  in  which  Flossy  had  indulged  as 
an  outlet  to  her  triumphant  spirits,  and  to  listen  to 
naive  recitals  of  new  progress,  as  though  she  herself 
were  a  companion  or  ladies'  maid,  to  whom  such  devel- 
opments could  never  happen.  She  was  weary  of  being 
merely  a  recipient  of  confidences  and  a  sympathetic  lis- 
tener, and  more  weary  still  of  being  regarded  as  such  by 
her  self-absorbed  and  successful  neighbor.  Why  should 
Flossy  be  so  dense  ?  Why  should  she  play  second  fiddle 
to  Flossy  ?  Why  should  Flossy  take  for  granted  that  she 
did  not  intend  to  keep  pace  with  her  ?  Keep  pace,  in- 
deed, when,  if  circumstances  would  only  shape  them- 
selves a  little  differently,  she  would  be  able  speedily  to 
outstrip  her  volatile  friend  in  the  struggle  for  social  pre- 
ferment. 

215 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Not  unnaturally  their  friendship  had  been  somewhat 
strained  by  the  simmering  of  these  thoughts  in  Selma's 
bosom.  If  a  recipient  of  confidences  becomes  tart  or 
cold,  ingenuous  prattle  is  apt  to  flow  less  spontaneously. 
Though  Flossy  was  completely  self-absorbed,  and  conse- 
quently glad  to  pour  out  her  satisfaction  into  a  sympa- 
thetic ear,  she  began  to  realize  that  there  was  some- 
thing amiss  with  her  friend  which  mere  conscientious 
disapproval  of  her  own  frivolities  did  not  adequately 
explain.  It  troubled  her  somewhat,  for  she  liked  tho 
Littletons  and  was  proud  of  her  acquaintance  with  them. 
However,  she  was  conscious  of  having  acquitted  herself 
toward  them  with  liberality,  and,  especially  now  that 
her  social  vista  was  widening,  she  was  not  disposed  at 
first  to  analyze  too  deeply  the  cause  of  the  lack  of  sym- 
pathy between  them.  That  is,  she  was  struck  by  Selma's 
offish  manner  and  frigid  silences,  but  forgot  them  until 
they  were  forced  upon  her  attention  the  next  time  they 
met.  But  as  her  friend  continued  to  receive  her  bubbling 
announcements  with  stiff  indifference,  Flossy,  in  her  per- 
plexity, began  to  bend  her  acute  mental  faculties  more 
searchingly  on  her  idol.  A  fixed  point  of  view  will  keep 
a  shrine  sacred  forever,  but  let  a  worshipper's  per- 
spective be  altered,  and  it  is  astonishing  how  different 
the  features  of  divinity  will  appear.  Flossy  had  wor- 
shipped with  the  eyes  of  faith.  Now  that  her  adoration 
was  rejected  without  apparent  cause,  her  curiosity  was 
piqued,  and  she  sought  an  interpretation  of  the  mystery 
from  her  clever  wits.  As  she  observed  Selma  more  dis- 
passionately her  suspicion  was  stirred,  and  she  began  to 
wonder  if  she  had  been  burning  incense  before  a  false 
goddess.  This  doubt  was  agitating  her  mind  at  the  time 
when  they  moved  from  the  street. 
216 


UNLEAVENED 

Selma  was  unconscious  of  the  existence  of  this  doubt 
as  she  had  been  largely  unconscious  of  her  own  sour  de- 
meanor. She  had  no  wish  to  lose  the  advantages  of  in- 
timate association  with  the  Williamses.  On  the  contrary, 
she  expected  to  make  progress  on  her  own  account  by 
admission  into  their  new  social  circle.  She  went 
promptly  to  call,  and  saw  fit  to  show  herself  tactfully  ap- 
preciative of  the  new  establishment  and  more  ready  to 
listen  to  Flossy's  volubility.  Flossy,  who  was  radiant 
and  bubbling  over  with  fresh  experiences  which  she  was 
eager  to  impart,  was  glad  to  dismiss  her  doubt  and  to 
give  herself  up  to  the  delights  of  unbridled  speech.  She 
took  Selma  over  her  new  house,  which  had  been  pur- 
chased just  as  it  stood,  completely  furnished,  from  the 
previous  owner,  who  had  suffered  financial  reverses. 
"  Gregory  bought  it  because  it  was  really  a  bargain/' 
she  said.  "  It  will  do  very  well  for  the  present,  but  we 
intend  to  build  before  long.  I  am  keeping  my  eye  on 
your  husband,  and  am  expecting  great  things  from  the 
Parsons  house.  Do  you  know,  I  believe  in  Mr.  Little- 
ton, and  feel  sure  that  some  day  we  shall  wake  up  and 
find  him  famous." 

This  was  amiable,  particularly  as  Flossy  was  very 
busily  engaged  in  contemplating  the  brilliant  progress 
of  Gregory  Williams  and  his  wife.  But  Selma  returned 
home  feeling  sore  and  dissatisfied.  Flossy  had  been 
gracious,  but  still  dense  and  naively  condescending. 
Selma  chose  to  foresee  that  her  friend  would  neglect 
her,  and  her  foresight  was  correct  The  call  was  not 
returned  for  many  weeks,  although  Flossy  had  assured 
her  when  they  separated  that  distance  would  make  no 
difference  in  their  intimacy.  But  in  the  first  place,  her 
doubts  recurred  to  Flossy  after  the  departure  of  her  vis- 
21? 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

itor,  and  in  the  second,  the  agitations  incident  to  her 
new  surroundings,  fortified  by  these  doubts,  made  neg- 
lect easy.  When  she  did  call,  Selma  happened  to  be 
out.  A  few  days  later  an  invitation  to  dine  with  the 
Williamses  arrived.  Selma  would  have  preferred  to  re- 
main at  home  as  a  rebuke,  but  she  was  miserably  con- 
scious that  Flossy  would  not  perceive  the  point  of  the 
refusal.  So  she  went,  and  was  annoyed  when  she  real- 
ized that  the  guests  were  only  people  whom  she  knew 
already — the  Parsonses,  and  some  of  Gregory  Williams's 
former  associates,  whom  she  had  met  at  the  old  house. 
It  was  a  pleasant  dinner,  apparently,  to  all  except 
Selma.  The  entertainment  was  flatteringly  lavish,  and 
both  the  host  and  hostess  with  suavity  put  in  circula- 
tion, under  the  rose,  the  sentiment  that  there  are  no 
friends  like  old  friends — a  graceful  insincerity  which 
most  of  them  present  accepted  as  true.  Indeed,  in  one 
sense  .it  was  not  an  insincerity,  for  Gregory  and  his  wife 
entertained  cordial  feelings  toward  them  all.  But  on 
the  other  hand,  Selma's  immediate  and  bitter  con- 
clusion was  also  true,  that  the  company  had  been  in- 
vited together  for  the  reason  that,  in  the  opinion  of 
Flossy,  they  would  not  have  harmonized  well  with  any- 
one else. 

Said  Wilbur  as  they  drove  away  from  the  house — 
"  Barring  a  few  moments  of  agony  in  the  society  of  my 
tormentor,  Mrs.  Parsons,  I  had  a  pleasant  evening. 
They  were  obviously  potting  their  old  acquaintance  in 
one  pie,  but  to  my  thinking  it  was  preferable  to  being 
sandwiched  in  between  some  of  their  new  friends  whom 
we  do  not  know  and  who  know  nothing  of  us.  It  was  a 
little  evident,  but  on  the  whole  agreeable." 

Selma,  shrouded  in  her  wraps,  made  no  reply  at  first 
218 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Suddenly  she  exclaimed,  with  fierceness,  "  I  consider  it 
rank  impertinence.  It  was  as  much  as  to  say  that  they 
do  not  think  us  good  enough  to  meet  their  new  friends." 

Littleton,  who  still  found  difficulty  in  remembering 
that  his  wife  would  not  always  enjoy  the  humor  of  an 
equivocal  situation,  was  sorry  that  he  had  spoken. 
"  Come,  Selma,"  he  said, ' '  there's  no  use  in  taking  that 
view  of  the  matter.  You  would  not  really  care  to  meet 
the  other  people." 

"  Yes,  I  would,  and  she  knows  it.  I  shall  never  enter 
her  house  again." 

"  As  to  that,  my  dear,  the  probabilities  are  that  we 
shall  not  be  asked  for  some  time.  You  know  perfectly 
well  that,  in  the  nature  of  things,  your  intimacy  with 
Mrs.  Williams  must  languish  now  that  she  lives  at  a 
distance  and  has  new  surroundings.  She  may  continue 
to  be  very  fond  of  you,  but  you  can't  hope  to  see  very 
much  of  her,  unless  I  am  greatly  mistaken  in  her 
character." 

"  She  is  a  shallow  little  worldling,"  said  Selma,  with 
measured  intensity. 

"  But  you  knew  that  already.  The  fact  that  she 
invited  us  to  dinner  and  did  not  ignore  our  existence 
altogether  shows  that  she  likes  us  and  wishes  to  continue 
the  friendship.  I've  no  doubt  she  believes  that  she  is 
going  to  see  a  great  deal  of  us,  and  you  should  blame 
destiny  and  the  force  of  fashionable  circumstances,  not 
Flossy,  if  you  drift  apart." 

"  She  invited  us  because  she  wished  to  show  off  her 
new  house." 

"  Not  altogether.     You  musn't  be  too  hard  on  her." 

Selma  moved  her  shoulders  impatiently,  and  there  was 
silence  for  some  moments  broken  only  by  the  tapping  of 
219 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

ta'.  foot  Then  she  asked,  "How  nearly  have  yoq 
finished  the  plans  for  the  Parsons  house  ?" 

Wilbur's  brow  clouded  under  cover  of  the  night.  He 
hesitated  an  instant  before  replying,  "  I  am  sorry  to 
say  that  Mrs.  Parsons  and  I  do  not  seem  to  get  on  very 
well  together.  Her  ideas  and  mine  on  the  subject  of 
architecture  are  wide  apart,  as  I  have  intimated  to  you 
once  or  twice.  I  have  modified  my  plans  again,  and  she 
has  made  airy  suggestions  which  from  my  point  of  view 
are  impossible.  We  are  practically  at  loggerheads,  and 
I  am  trying  to  make  up  my  mind  what  I  ought  to  do." 

There  was  a  wealth  of  condensation  in  the  word 
'  impossible '  which  brought  back  unpleasantly  to  Selma 
Pauline's  use  of  the  same  word  in  connection  with  the 
estimate  which  had  been  formed  of  Miss  Bailey. 
u  There  can  be  only  one  thing  to  do  in  the  end,"  she 
said,  "  if  you  can't  agree.  Mrs.  Parsons,  of  course,  must 
have  her  house  as  she  wishes  it.  It  is  her  house,  Wilbur." 

"  It  is  her  house,  and  she  has  that  right,  certainly. 
The  question  is  whether  I  am  willing  to  allow  the  world 
to  point  to  an  architectural  hotch-potch  and  call  it 
mine." 

"  Isn't  this  another  case  of  neglecting  the  practical 
side,  Wilbur  ?  I  am  sure  you  exaggerate  the  impor- 
tance of  the  changes  she  desires.  If  I  were  building  a 
house,  I  should  expect  to  have  it  built  to  suit  me,  and  I 
should  be  annoyed  if  the  architect  stood  on  points  and 
were  captious."  Selma  under  the  influence  of  this  more 
congenial  theme  had  partially  recovered  her  equanimity. 
Her  duty  was  her  pleasure,  and  it  was  clearly  her  duty 
to  lead  her  husband  in  the  right  path  and  save  him  from 
becoming  the  victim  of  his  own  shortcomings. 

Wilbur  sighed.  "  I  have  told  her,"  he  said,  "  that  I 
220 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

would  submit  another  entirely  new  sketch.  It  may  be 
that  I  can  introduce  some  of  her  and  her  daughter's 
splurgy  and  garish  misconceptions  without  making  my- 
self hopelessly  ridiculous. " 

He  entered  the  house  wearily,  and  as  he  stood  before 
the  hall  table  under  the  chandelier,  Selma  took  him  by 
the  arm  and  turning  him  toward  her  gazed  into  his  face. 
"  I  wish  to  examine  you.  Pauline  said  to  me  to-day 
that  she  thinks  you  are  looking  pale.  I  don't  see  that 
you  are  ;  no  more  so  than  usual.  You  never  were  rosy 
exactly.  Do  you  know  I  have  an  idea  that  she  thinks  I 
am  working  you  to  death." 

"  Pauline  ?  What  reason  has  she  to  think  anything 
of  the  kind  ?  Besides,  I  am  perfectly  well.  It  is  a 
delight  to  work  for  a  woman  like  you,  dearest."  He 
took  her  face  between  his  hands  and  kissed  her  tenderly  ; 
yet  gravely,  too,  as  though  the  riddle  of  life  did  not  solve 
itself  at  the  touch  of  her  lips.  "  You  will  be  interested 
to  hear/'  he  added,  "  that  I  shall  finish  and  send  off  the 
Wetmore  College  plans  this  week." 

"  I  am  glad  they  are  off  your  hands,  for  you  will  have 
more  time  for  other  work." 

"  Yes.  I  think  I  may  have  done  something  worth 
while,"  he  said,  wistfully. 

"  And  I  shall  try  not  to  be  annoyed  if  someone  else 
gets  the  award,"  she  responded,  smoothing  down  the 
sheen  of  her  evening  dress  and  regarding  herself  in  the 
mirror. 

"  Of  course  someone  else  may  have  taken  equal  pains 
and  done  a  better  thing.  It  is  necessary  always  to  be 
prepared  for  that." 

"  That  is  the  trouble.  That  is  why  I  disapprove  of 
competitions." 

tit 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"Selma,  you  are  talking  nonsense,"  Littleton 
exclaimed  with  sudden  sternness. 

The  decision  in  his  tone  made  her  start.  The  color 
mounted  to  her  face,  and  she  surveyed  him  for  an  in- 
stant haughtily,  as  though  he  had  done  her  an  injury. 
Then  with  an  oratorical  air  and  her  archangel  look,  she 
said,  "You  do  not  seem  to  understand,  Wilbur,  that  I 
am  trying  to  save  you  from  yourself." 

Littleton  was  ever  susceptible  to  that  look  of  hers.  It 
suggested  incarnate  conscientiousness,  and  seemed  in- 
compatible with  human  imperfection  or  unworthy  am- 
bitions. He  was  too  wroth  to  relent  altogether,  but  he 
compressed  his  lips  and  returned  her  look  searchingly, 
as  though  he  would  scrutinize  her  soul. 

"  Fm  bound  to  believe,  I  do  believe,  that  you  are 
trying  to  help  me,  Selma.  I  need  your  advice  and  help, 
even  against  myself,  I  dare  say.  But  there  are  some 
matters  of  which  you  cannot  judge  so  well  as  I.  You 
must  trust  my  opinion  where  the  development  of  my 
professional  life  is  concerned.  I  shall  not  forget  your 
caution  to  be  practical,  but  for  the  sake  of  expediency  I 
cannot  be  false  to  what  I  believe  true.  Come,  dear,  let  us 
go  to  bed." 

He  put  his  hand  on  her  arm  to  lead  her  upstairs,  but 
she  turned  from  it  to  collect  her  fan  and  gloves.  Look- 
ing, not  at  him,  but  at  herself  in  the  mirror,  she  an- 
swered, "  Of  course.  I  trust,  though,  that  this  does 
not  mean  you  intend  to  act  foolishly  in  regard  to  the 
Parsons  house." 

"I  have  already  told  you,"  he  said,  looking  back, 
"  that  I  am  going  to  make  another  attempt  to  satisfy 
that  exasperating  woman  and  her  daughter." 

"And  you  can  satisfy  them,  Fm  sure,  if  you  only 
222 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

choose  to/'  said  Selma,  by  way  of  a  firm,  final  observa- 
tion. 

Littleton's  prophecy  in  regard  to  the  waning  of  friend- 
ship between  his  wife  and  Mrs.  Williams  proved  to  be 
correct.  Propinquity  had  made  them  intimate,  and 
separation  by  force  of  circumstances  put  a  summary  end 
to  frequent  and  cordial  intercourse  between  them.  As 
he  had  predicted,  their  first  invitation  to  the  new  house 
was  still  the  last  at  the  end  of  three  months,  and  save 
for  a  few  words  on  one  occasion  in  the  street,  Selma  and 
Flossy  did  not  meet  during  that  period.  But  during 
that  same  three  months  Selma's  attention  was  constantly 
attracted  to  the  Williamses  by  prominent  newspaper 
allusions  to  their  prosperity  and  growing  fashionable 
prestige.  What  they  did  and  where  they  went  were 
chronicled  in  the  then  new  style  journalistic  social  gos- 
sip, and  the  every-day  world  was  made  familiar  with  his 
financial  opinions  and  his  equipages  and  her  toilettes. 
The  meeting  in  the  street  was  an  ordeal  for  Selma. 
Flossy  had  been  shopping  and  was  about  to  step  into 
her  carriage,  the  door  of  which  was  held  open  by  an  im- 
posing liveried  footman,  when  the  two  women  nearly 
collided. 

"  I  have  not  seen  you  for  an  age,"  Flossy  exclaimed, 
with  the  genuine  ring  of  regret  in  her  tone,  with  which 
busy  people  partially  atone  for  having  left  undone  the 
things  they  ought  or  would  like  to  have  done.  "  Which 
way  are  you  going  ?  Can't  I  take  you  somewhere  ?  " 

Selma  glanced  sternly  at  the  snug  coupe  and  stylish 
horses.  "  No,  we  don't  seem  to  meet  very  often,"  she 
said  drily.  "  I'm  living,  though,  at  the  same  place/' 
she  added,  with  a  determination  to  be  sprightly. 

"Yes,  I  know;  I  owe  you  a  call.  It's  dreadful  of 
223 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

me.  I've  been  intending  to  come,  but  you  can't  im- 
agine how  busy  I've  been.  Such  a  number  of  invita- 
tions, and  new  things  to  be  done.  Fm  looking  forward 
to  giving  yon  a  full  account  of  my  experiences/' 

"I've  read  about  them  in  the  newspapers." 

"  Oh,  yes.  Gregory  is  always  civil  to  reporters.  He 
says  that  the  newspapers  are  one  of  the  great  institu- 
tions of  the  country,  and  that  it  is  sensible  to  keep  in 
touch  with  them.  I  will  confide  to  you  that  I  think  the 
whole  business  vulgar,  and  I  intend  some  day,  when  we 
are  firmly  established,  to  be  ugly  to  them.  But  at  pres- 
ent the  publicity  is  rather  convenient  and  amusing," 
she  exclaimed,  with  a  gay  shake  of  her  head,  which  set 
her  ringlets  bobbing. 

"  I  should  think  it  would  be  unpleasant  to  have  the 
details  of  one's  appearance  described  by  the  press." 

Flossy's  doubts  had  returned  in  full  force  during  the 
conversation.  She  said  to  herself,  "  I  wonder  if  that  is 
true  ?  I  wonder  if  it  wouldn't  be  the  very  thing  she 
would  like?"  But  she  answered  blithely,  "Oh,  one 
gets  used  to  it.  Then  I  can't  take  you  anywhere  ?  I'm 
sorry.  Some  day  I  hope  my  round  of  gayety  will  cease, 
so  that  we  can  have  a  quiet  evening  together.  I  miss 
your  husband.  I  always  find  him  suggestive  and  inter- 
esting." 

" '  Her  round  of  gayety !  A  quiet  evening  together  ! ' " 
murmured  Selma  as  she  walked  away.  "  Wilbur  is 
right ;  purse-proud,  frivolous  little  thing  !  She  is  de- 
termined to  destroy  our  friendship." 

Four  weeks  subsequent  to  this  meeting  the  newspa- 
pers contained  a  fulsome  account  of  a  dancing  party 
given  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gregory  Williams — "  an  elegant 
and  recherchfe  entertainment,"  in  the  language  of  the 
224 


UNLEAVENED  BKEAD 

reporter.  A  list  of  the  company  followed,  which  Selma 
scrutinized  with  a  brow  like  a  thunder-cloud.  She  had 
acquired  a  feverish  habit  of  perusing  similar  lists,  and 
she  recognized  that  Flossy's  guests — among  the  first  of 
whom  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Morton  Price  and  the  Misses 
Price — were  chiefly  confined  to  persons  whom  she  had 
{earned  to  know  as  members  of  fashionable  society.  She 
read,  in  the  further  phraseology  of  the  reporter,  that 
"  it  was  a  small  and  select  affair."  At  the  end  of  the 
list,  as  though  they  had  been  invited  on  sufferance  as  a 
business  necessity,  were  the  Parsonses ;  but  these  were 
the  only  former  associates  of  the  Williamses.  Selma 
had  just  finished  her  second  reading  of  this  news  item 
when  her  meditation  was  interrupted  by  the  voice  of  her 
husband,  who  had  been  silent  during  dinner,  as  though 
he  had  some  matter  on  his  mind,  and  was  at  the  mo- 
ment sitting  close  by,  on  the  other  side  of  the  lamp  which 
lighted  the  library  table. 

"  I  fear  you  will  be  disappointed,  Selma,  but  I  have 
informed  Mr.  Parsons  definitely  this  morning,  that  he 
must  get  another  architect.  The  ideas  of  his  wife  and 
daughter  are  hopelessly  at  variance  with  mine.  He 
seemed  to  be  sorry — indeed,  I  should  think  he  was  a 
reasonable  and  sensible  man — but  he  said  that  he  was 
building  to  please  Mrs.  Parsons,  and  we  both  agreed 
that  under  the  circumstances  it  was  necessary  that  she 
should  make  a  fresh  start.  He  asked  me  to  send  my 
bill,  and  we  parted  on  the  best  of  terms.  So  it  is  all 
over,  and  except  from  the  point  of  view  of  dollars  and 
cents,  I  am  very  glad.  Only  the  remembrance  that  yon 
had  set  your  heart  on  my  making  this  my  masterpiece, 
prevented  me  from  throwing  over  the  contract  weeks 
ago.  Tell  me,  Selma  mia,  that  you  approve  of  what  I 
225 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

have  done  and  congratulate  me."  He  pulled  forward  his 
chair  so  that  he  might  see  her  face  without  interference 
from  the  lamp  and  leaned  toward  her  with  frank  appeal. 

"  Yes,  I  had  set  my  heart  on  it,  and  you  knew  it. 
Yet  you  preferred  to  give  up  this  fine  opportunity  to 
show  what  you  could  do  and  to  get  business  worth  hav- 
ing rather  than  sacrifice  your  own  ideas  as  to  how  a 
house  should  be  built  to  the  ideas  of  the  women  who 
were  to  live  in  it.  I  dare  say  I  should  agree  with  them, 
and  that  the  things  which  they  wished  and  you  objected 
to  were  things  I  would  have  insisted  on  having/' 

Littleton  started  as  though  she  had  struck  him  in  the 
face.  "  Selma  !  My  wife  1  Do  you  realize  what  you 
are  saying  ?  " 

"  Perfectly.0 

"  Then— then— .  Why,  what  have  I  said,  what  have 
I  done  that  you  should  talk  like  this  ?  " 

"Done?  Everything.  For  one  thing  you  have  thrown 
away  the  chance  for  getting  ahead  in  your  profession 
which  I  procured  for  you.  For  another,  by  your  vision- 
ary, unpractical  ways,  you  have  put  me  in  the  position 
where  I  can  be  insulted.  Eead  that,  and  judge  for  your- 
self. "  She  held  out  to  him  the  newspaper  containing 
the  account  of  the  dancing  party,  pointing  with  her 
finger  to  the  obnoxious  passage. 

With  nervous  hands  Littleton  drew  the  page  under 
the  light.  "  What  is  all  this  about  ?  A  party  ?  What 
has  it  to  do  with  our  affairs  ?  " 

"  It  has  this  to  do  with  them — if  you  had  been  more 
practical  and  enterprising,  our  names  would  have  been 
on  that  list." 

"  I  am  glad  they  are  not  there." 

"Yes,  I  know.  You  would  be  content  to  have  us 
226 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

remain  nobodies  all  our  days.  You  do  not  care  what 
becomes  of  my  life,  provided  you  can  carry  out  your  own 
narrow  theory  of  how  we  ought  to  live.  And  I  had 
such  faith  in  you,  too  !  I  have  refused  to  believe  until 
now  that  you  were  not  trying  to  make  the  most  of  your 
opportunities,  and  to  enable  me  to  make  the  most  of 
mine." 

"  Selma,  are  you  crazy  ?  To  think  that  you,  the 
woman  I  have  loved  with  all  my  soul,  should  be  capable 
of  saying  such  things  to  me  !  What  does  it  mean  ?" 

She  was  quick  to  take  advantage  of  his  phrase. 
"  Have  loved  ?  Yes,  I  know  that  you  do  not  love  me 
as  you  did ;  otherwise  you  could  not  have  refused  to 
build  that  house,  against  my  wish  and  advice.  It  means 
this,  Wilbur  Littleton,  that  I  am  determined  not  to  let 
you  spoil  my  life.  You  forget  that  in  marrying  you  I 
gave  up  my  own  ambitions  and  hopes  for  your  sake  ; 
because — because  I  believed  that  by  living  together  we 
should  be  more,  and  accomplish  more,  than  by  living 
apart.  You  said  you  needed  me,  and  I  was  fool  enough 
to  believe  it." 

The  fierce  tragedy  in  her  tone  lapsed  into  self-pity 
under  the  influence  of  her  last  thought,  and  Littleton, 
eager  in  his  bewilderment  for  some  escape  from  the 
horror  of  the  situation,  put  aside  his  anger  and  dropping 
on  his  knees  beside  her  tried  to  take  her  hands. 

"  Yon  are  provoked,  my  darling.  Do  not  say  things 
which  you  will  be  sorry  for  to-morrow.  I  call  God  to 
witness  that  I  have  sought  above  all  else  to  make  you 
happy,  and  if  I  have  failed,  I  am  utterly  miserable.  I 
have  needed  you,  I  do  need  you.  Do  not  let  a  single 
difference  of  opinion  spoil  the  joy  of  both  our  lives  and 
divide  our  hearts," 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

She  pulled  her  hands  away,  and  shunning  his  endear- 
ment, rose  to  her  feet. 

"I  am  provoked,  but  I  know  what  I  am  saying.  A 
single  difference  of  opinion  ?  Do  you  not  see,  Wilbur, 
that  none  of  our  opinions  are  the  same,  and  that  we 
look  at  everything  differently  ?  Even  your  religion  and 
the  God  you  call  to  witness  are  not  mine.  They  are 
stiff  and  cold  ;  you  Unitarians  permit  your  consciences 
to  deaden  your  emotions  and  belittle  your  outlook  on 
life.  When  I  went  with  Mr.  Parsons  the  other  day  to 
the  Methodist  church,  I  could  not  help  thinking  how 
different  it  was.  I  was  thrilled  and  I  felt  I  could  do 
anything  and  be  anything.  My  mother  was  a  Method- 
ist. They  sang  '  Onward  Christian  Soldiers/  and  it  was 
glorious."  She  paused  a  moment  and,  with  an  exalted 
look,  seemed  to  be  recalling  the  movement  of  the  hymn. 
"  With  you,  Wilbur,  and  the  people  like  you — Pauline 
is  the  same — everything  is  measured  and  pondered  over, 
and  nothing  is  spontaneous.  I  like  action,  and  progress 
and  prompt,  sensible  conclusions.  That  is  the  Ameri- 
can way,  and  the  way  in  which  people  who  succeed  get 
on.  But  you  won't  see  it — yon  can't  see  it.  I've  tried 
to  explain  it  to  you,  and  now — now  it's  too  late.  We're 
nobodies,  and,  if  our  hearts  are  divided,  that's  fate  I 
suppose.  It's  a  very  cruel  fate  for  me.  But  I  don't 
choose  to  remain  a  nobody." 

Littleton's  expression  as  she  talked  had  changed  from 
astonishment  to  anger,  and  from  anger  to  a  sternness 
which  gave  his  words  of  response  the  effect  of  calm 
and  final  decision.  "Yon  have  said  so  many  things 
with  which  I  do  not  agree,  and  which  I  should  have  to 
dispute,  that  I  will  not  attempt  to  argue  with  you  con- 
cerning them.  One  thing  is  clear,  both  of  us  have  made 


UNLEAVENEU  BREAD 

a  horrible  mistake.  Each  has  misunderstood  the  other. 
You  are  dissatisfied  with  me ;  I  realize  suddenly  that 
you  are  utterly  different  from  what  I  supposed.  I  am 
overwhelmed,  but  your  words  make  plain  many  things 
which  have  distressed  and  puzzled  me."  He  paused  as 
though  in  spite  of  the  certainty  of  his  tone,  he  hoped 
that  she  would  see  fit  to  deny  his  conclusions.  "  We 
have  made  a  mistake  and  we  shall  both  be  miserable — 
that  must  needs  be — but  we  must  consider  whether  there 
is  any  method  by  which  we  can  be  less  unhappy.  What 
would  you  like  to  have  me  do,  Selma  ?  We  have  no 
children,  thank  heaven  !  Would  it  be  more  agreeable 
to  live  apart  from  me  and  receive  support  ?  A  divorce 
does  not  seem  necessary.  Besides,  our  misconception  of 
of  each  other  would  not  be  a  legal  cause." 

Selma  flushed  at  the  reference  to  divorce.  Littleton's 
sad,  simple  statement  wore  on  the  surface  no  sign  of  a 
design  to  hark  back  to  her  experience  with  her  first  hus- 
band, yet  she  divined  that  it  must  be  in  his  thoughts 
and  she  resented  the  recurrence.  Moreover,  separation, 
certainly  for  the  present,  went  beyond  her  purpose. 

"  I  have  no  wish  for  divorce  or  separation.  I  see  no 
reason  why  we  should  not  continue  to  live  as  we  are," 
she  answered.  "  To  separate  would  cause  scandal.  It 
is  not  necessary  that  people  should  know  we  have  made  a 
mistake.  I  shall  merely  feel  more  free  now  to  live  my 
own  life — and  there  is  no  telling  that  you  may  not  some 
day  see  things  from  my  point  of  view  and  sympathize 
with  me  more."  She  uttered  the  last  words  with  a  mixt- 
ure of  pathos  and  bright  solicitation. 

Littleton  shook  his  head.  "  I  agree  with  you  that  to 
go  on  as  we  are  is  our  best  course.  As  you  say,  we  ought, 
if  possible,  to  keep  the  knowledge  of  our  sorrow  to  our- 
229 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

selves.  God  knows  that  I  wish  I  could  hope  that  our 
life  could  ever  be  as  it  was  before.  Too  many  things  have 
become  plain  to  me  in  the  last  half -hour  to  make  that 
possible.  I  could  never  learn  to  accept  or  sympathize 
with  your  point  of  view.  There  can  be  no  half-love 
with  me,  Selma.  It  is  my  nature  to  be  frank,  and  as 
you  are  fond  of  saying,  that  is  the  American  way.  I 
am  your  husband  still,  and  while  I  live  you  shall  have 
my  money  and  my  protection.  But  I  have  ceased  to  be 
your  lover,  though  my  heart  is  broken. " 

"  Very  well,"  said  Selma,  after  a  painful  pause.  "  But 
you  know,  Wilbur,"  she  added  in  a  tone  of  eager  pro- 
testation, "  that  I  do  not  admit  for  a  moment  that  I  am 
at  fault.  I  was  simply  trying  to  help  you.  You  have 
only  yourself  to  blame  for  your  unhappiness  and — and 
for  mine.  I  hope  you  understand  that/' 

"Yes,  I  understand  that  you  think  so,"  he  said 
sadly. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

x'HE  breach  between  Littleton  and  his  wife  was  too 
serious  to  be  healed,  for  he  was  confronted  by  the  con- 
viction that  Selma  was  a  very  different  being  from  the 
woman  whom  he  had  supposed  that  he  was  marrying. 
He  had  been  slow  to  harbor  distrust,  and  loath,  even  in 
the  face  of  her  own  words,  to  admit  that  he  had  misin- 
terpreted her  character  ;  but  this  last  conversation  left 
no  room  for  doubt.  Selma  had  declared  to  him,  un- 
equivocally, that  his  ideas  and  theory  of  life  were  repug- 
nant to  her,  and  that,  henceforth,  she  intended  to  act 
independently  of  them,  so  far  as  she  could  do  so,  and  yet 
maintain  the  semblance  of  the  married  state.  It  was  a 
cruel  shock  and  disappointment  to  him.  At  the  time 
of  his  marriage  he  would  have  said  that  the  least  likely 
of  possible  happenings  would  be  self-deception  as  to  the 
character  of  the  woman  he  loved.  Yet  this  was  pre- 
cisely what  had  befallen  him. 

Having  realized  his  mistake,  he  did  not  seek  to  flinch 
from  the  bitter  truth.  He  saw  clearly  that  their  future 
relations  toward  each  other  must  be  largely  formal  ; 
that  tender  comradeship  and  mutual  soul  alliance  were 
at  an  end.  At  the  same  time  his  simple,  direct  con- 
science promptly  indicated  to  him  that  it  was  his  duty 
to  recognize  Selma's  point  of  view  and  endeavor  to 
satisfy  it  as  far  as  he  could  without  sacrifice  of  his  own 
principles.  He  chose  to  remember  that  she,  too,  had 
231 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

made  a  mistake,  and  that  he  was  not  the  kind  of  hus- 
band whom  she  desired ;  that  his  tastes  were  not  her 
tastes,  nor  his  ambitions  her's  ;  that  she  had  tastes  and 
ambitions  of  her  own  which  he,  as  the  man  to  whom  she 
was  bound  by  the  law,  must  not  disregard.  Thus  rea- 
soning, he  resolved  to  carry  out  the  scheme  of  life  which 
she  appeared  to  despise,  but  also  to  work  hard  to  provide 
her  with  the  means  to  fulfil  her  own  aims.  She  craved 
money  for  social  advancement.  She  should  have  it  from 
him,  for  there  was  no  other  source  from  which  she  could 
obtain  it.  The  poignancy  of  his  own  sorrow  should  not 
cause  him  to  ignore  that  she  had  given  up  her  own 
career  and  pursuits  in  order  to  become  his  wife,  and  was 
now  disappointed  and  without  independent  resources. 
His  pride  was  sorely  wounded,  his  ideals  shattered  and 
his  heart  crushed ;  yet,  though  he  could  not  forbear 
from  judging  Selma,  and  was  unconscious  of  having 
failed  in  his  obligations  to  her  as  a  husband  and  a  man, 
he  saw  what  she  called  her  side,  and  he  took  up  the 
thread  of  life  again  under  the  spur  of  an  intention  to 
give  her  everything  but  love. 

On  her  part  Selma  felt  aggrieved  yet  emancipated. 
She  had  not  looked  for  any  such  grave  result  from  her 
vituperation.  She  had  intended  to  reprove  his  sur- 
render of  the  Parsons's  contract,  in  direct  opposition  to 
her  own  wishes,  with  the  severity  it  deserved,  and  to  let 
him  understand  clearly  that  he  was  sacrificing  her  hap- 
piness, no  less  than  his  own,  by  his  hysterical  folly. 
When  the  conversation  developed  stubborn  resistance  on 
his  part,  and  she  realized  that  he  was  defending  and  ad- 
hering to  his  purpose,  a  righteous  sense  of  injury  be- 
came predominant  in  her  mind  over  everything  else. 
All  her  past  wrongs  cried  for  redress,  an>*  she  rejoicad 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

in  the  opportunity  of  giving  free  vent  to  the  pent  up 
grievances  which  had  been  accumulating  for  many 
months.  Even  then  it  was  startling  to  her  that  Wilbur 
should  suddenly  utter  the  tragic  ultimatum  that  their 
happiness  was  at  an  end,  and  hint  at  divorce.  She  con- 
sidered that  she  loved  him,  and  it  had  never  occurred 
to  her  that  he  could  ever  cease  to  love  her.  Rather  than 
retract  a  word  of  her  own  accusations  she  would  have 
let  him  leave  her,  then  and  there,  to  live  her  own  life 
without  protection  or  support  from  him,  but  his  calmer 
decision  that  they  should  continue  to  live  together,  yet 
apart,  suited  her  better.  In  spite  of  his  resolute  mien 
she  was  sceptical  of  the  seriousness  of  the  situation. 
She  believed  in  her  heart  that  after  a  few  days  of  re- 
straint they  would  resume  their  former  life,  and  that 
Wilbur,  on  reflection,  would  appreciate  that  he  had 
been  absurd. 

When  it  became  apparent  that  he  was  not  to  be  ap- 
peased and  that  his  threat  had  been  genuine,  Selma 
accepted  the  new  relation  without  demur,  and  prepared 
to  play  her  part  in  the  compact  as  though  she  had  been 
equally  obdurate  in  her  outcry  for  her  freedom.  She 
met  reserve  with  reserve,  maintaining  rigorously  the  at- 
titude that  she  had  been  wronged  and  that  he  was  to 
blame.  Meantime  she  watched  him  narrowly,  wonder- 
ing what  his  grave,  sad  demeanor  and  solicitous  polite- 
ness signified.  When  presently  it  became  plain  to  her 
that  not  merely  she  was  to  be  free  to  follow  her  own 
bent,  but  that  he  was  ready  to  provide  her  with  the 
means  to  carry  out  her  schemes,  she  regarded  his  liber- 
ality us  weakness  and  a  sign  that  he  knew  in  his  heart 
that  she  was  in  the  right.  Immediately,  and  with  thinly 
concealed  triumph,  she  planned  to  utilize  the  new  liberty 
233 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

at  her  disposal,  purging  any  scruples  from  her  con- 
science by  the  generous  reflection  that  when  Wilbur's 
brow  unbent  and  his  lips  moved  freely  she  would  for- 
give him  and  proffer  him  once  more  her  conjugal  counsel 
and  sympathy.  She  was  firmly  of  the  opinion  that, 
unless  he  thus  acknowledged  his  shortcomings  and 
promised  improvement,  the  present  arrangement  was 
completely  to  her  liking,  and  that  confidence  and  hap- 
piness between  them  would  be  utterly  impossible.  She 
shed  some  tears  over  the  thought  that  unkind  circum- 
stances had  robbed  her  of  the  love  by  which  she  had  set 
such  store  and  which  she,  on  her  part,  still  cherished, 
but  she  comforted  herself  with  the  retort  that  its  loss 
was  preferable  to  sacrificing  weakly  the  development  of 
her  own  ideas  and  life  to  its  perpetuation. 

Her  flush  of  triumph  was  succeeded,  however,  by  a 
discontented  mood,  because  cogitation  constrained  her 
to  suspect  that  her  social  progress  might  not  be  so 
rapid  as  her  first  rosy  visions  had  suggested.  She 
counted  on  being  able  to  procure  the  participation  of 
Wilbur  sufficiently  to  preserve  the  appearance  of  do- 
mestic harmony.  This  would  be  for  practical  pur- 
poses a  scarcely  less  effective  furtherance  of  her  plans 
than  if  he  were  heartily  in  sympathy  with  them.  Were 
there  not  many  instances  where  busy  husbands  took  part 
in  the  social  undertakings  of  their  wives,  merely  on  the 
surface,  to  preserve  appearances  ?  The  attitude  of  Wil- 
bur seemed  reasonably  secure.  That  which  harassed 
her  as  the  result  of  her  reflections  and  efforts  to  plan 
was  the  unpalatable  consciousness  that  she  did  not  know 
exactly  what  to  do,  and  that  uo  one,  even  now  that  she 
was  free,  appeared  eager  to  extend  to  her  the  hand  of 
recognition.  She  was  prompt  to  lay  the  blame  of  this 
234 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

on  her  husband.  It  was  he  who,  by  preventing  her  from 
taking  advantage  of  the  social  opportunities  at  their 
disposal,  had  consigned  her  to  this  eddy  where  she  was 
overlooked.  This  seemed  to  her  a  complete  excuse,  and 
yet,  though  she  made  the  most  of  it,  it  did  not  satisfy 
her.  Her  helplessness  angered  her,  and  aroused  her  old 
feelings  of  suspicion  and  resentment  against  the  fashion- 
able crew  who  appeared  to  be  unaware  of  her  existence. 
She  was  glad  to  believe  that  the  reason  they  ignored  her 
was  because  she  was  too  serious  minded  and  spiritual  to 
suit  their  frivolous  and  pleasure-loving  tastes.  Some- 
times she  reasoned  that  the  sensible  thing  for  her  to  do 
was  to  break  away  from  her  present  life,  where  conven- 
tion and  caste  trammelled  her  efforts,  and  make  a  name 
for  herself  as  an  independent  soul,  like  Mrs.  Margaret 
Rodney  Earle  and  other  free-born  women  of  the  Repub- 
lic. With  satisfaction  she  pictured  herself  on  the  lect- 
ure platform  uttering  burning  denunciation  of  the 
un-American  social  proclivities  of  this  shallow  society, 
and  initiating  a  crusade  which  should  sweep  it  from 
existence  beneath  the  ban  of  the  moral  sense  of  the 
thoughtful  people  of  the  country. 

But  more  frequently  she  nursed  her  resentment  against 
Mrs.  Williams,  to  whom  she  ascribed  the  blame  of  her 
isolation,  reasoning  that  if  Flossy  had  been  a  true  friend, 
not  even  Wilbur's  waywardness  would  have  prevented 
her  social  recognition  and  success.  That,  instead,  this 
volatile,  fickle  prattler  had  used  her  so  long  as  she 
needed  her,  and  then  dropped  her  heartlessly.  The 
memory  of  Flossy's  ball  still  rankled  deeply,  and 
appeared  to  Selma  a  more  obvious  and  more  exasperat- 
ing insult  as  the  days  passed  without  a  sign  of  explana- 
tion on  the  part  of  her  late  neighbor,  and  as  her  uew 
235 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

projects  languished  for  lack  of  a  few  words  of  introduc- 
tion here  and  there,  which,  in  her  opinion,  were  all  she 
needed  to  ensure  her  enthusiastic  welcome  as  a  social 
leader.  The  appreciation  that  without  those  words  of 
introduction  she  was  helpless  for  the  time  being  focused 
her  resentment,  already  keen,  on  the  successful  Flossy, 
whose  gay  doings  had  disappeared  from  the  public 
prints  in  a  blaze  of  glory  with  the  advent  of  the  Lenten 
season.  Refusing  to  acknowledge  her  dependence, 
Selma  essayed  several  spasmodic  attempts  to  assert  her- 
self, but  they  proved  unsatisfactory.  She  made  the 
most  of  Mr.  Parsons's  predilection  for  her  society,  which 
had  not  been  checked  by  Wilbur's  termination  of  the 
contract.  She  was  thus  enabled  to  affiliate  with  some 
of  their  new  friends,  but  she  was  disagreeably  conscious 
that  she  was  not  making  real  progress,  and  that  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Parsons  and  their  daughter  had,  like  herself,  been 
dropped  by  the  Williamses— dropped  skilfully  and  im- 
perceptibly, yet  none  the  less  dropped.  Two  dinner 
parties,  which  she  gave  in  the  course  of  a  fortnight  to 
the  most  important  of  these  new  acquaintances,  by  way 
of  manifesting  to  Wilbur  her  intention  to  enjoy  her 
liberty  at  his  expense,  left  her  depressed  and  sore. 

It  was  just  at  this  time  that  Flossy  took  it  into  her 
head  to  call  on  her — one  of  her  first  Lenten  duties,  as 
she  hastened  to  assure  Selma,  with  glib  liveliness,  as 
soon  as  she  entered.  Flossy  was  in  too  exalted  a  frame 
of  mind,  too  bubbling  over  with  the  desire  to  recite  her 
triumphs,  to  have  in  mind  either  her  doubts  concerning 
Selma  or  the  need  of  being  more  than  mildly  apologetic 
for  her  lack  of  devotion.  She  felt  friendly,  for  she  was 
in  good  humor,  and  was  naively  desirous  to  be  received 
in  the  same  spirit,  so  that  she  might  unbosom  herself 
236 


UNLEAVENED  BREAu 

unreservedly.  Sweeping  into  the  room,  an  animated 
vision  of  smiling,  stylish  cordiality,  she  sought,  as  it 
were,  to  carry  before  her  by  force  of  her  own  radiant 
mood  all  obstacles  to  an  amiable  reception. 

"  My  dear,  we  haven't  met  for  ages.  Thank  heaven, 
Lent  has  come,  and  now  I  may  see  something  of  you. 
I  said  to  Gregory  only  yesterday  that  I  should  make  a 
bee-line  for  your  house,  and  here  I  am.  Well,  dear, 
how  are  you  ?  All  sorts  of  things  have  happened,  Selma, 
since  we've  had  a  real  chat  together.  Do  you  remember 
my  telling  you — of  course  you  do — not  long  after 
Gregory  and  I  weie  married  that  I  never  should  be  sat- 
isfied until  one  thing  happened  ?  Well,  you  may  con- 
gratulate me ;  it  has  happened.  We  dined  a  week  ago 
to-night  with  my  cousins — the  Morton  Prices — a  dinner 
of  fourteen,  all  of  them  just  the  people  I  wished  to 
know.  Wasn't  it  lovely  ?  I  have  waited  for  it  to  come, 
and  I  haven't  moved  a  finger  to  bring  it  about,  except 
to  ask  them  to  my  dancing  party — I  had  to  do  that,  for 
after  all  they  are  my  relations.  They  accepted  and 
came  and  I  was  pleased  by  it ;  but  they  could  easily 
have  ignored  me  afterward  if  they  had  wished.  What 
really  pleased  me,  Selma,  was  their  asking  me  to  one 
of  their  select  dinners,  because — because  it  showed  that 
we  are " 

Flossy's  hesitation  was  due  partly  to  the  inherent 
difficulty  of  expressing  her  thought  with  proper  regard 
for  modesty.  With  her  rise  in  life  she  had  learned  that 
unlimited  laudation  of  self  was  not  altogether  consist- 
ent with  "fitness,"  even  in  such  a  confidential  inter- 
view as  the  present.  But  she  was  also  disconcerted  by 
the  look  in  Selma's  eyes— a  look  which,  at  first  startled 
into  momentary  friendliness  by  the  suddenness  of  the 
237 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

onslaught,  had  become  more  and  more  lowering  until 
it  was  unpleasantly  suggestive  of  scornful  dislike.  While 
she  thus  faltered,  Selma  drily  rounded  out  the  sentence 
with  the  words,  "  Because  it  showed  that  you  are  some- 
bodies now." 

Flossy  gave  an  embarrassed  little  laugh.  "Yes, 
that's  what  I  meant.  I  see  you  have  a  good  memory, 
and  it  sounds  nicer  on  your  lips  than  it  would  on  mine." 

"You  have  come  here  to-day  on  purpose  to  tell  me 
this  ?  "  said  Selma. 

"  I  thought  you  would  be  interested  to  hear  that  my 
cousins  had  recognized  me  at  last.  I  remember,  you 
thought  it  strange  that  they  should  take  so  little  notice 
of  me."  Flossy's  festive  manner  had  disappeared  be- 
fore the  tart  reception  of  her  confidences,  and  her  keen 
wits,  baffled  in  their  search  for  flattery,  recalled  the 
suspicions  which  were  only  slumbering.  She  realized 
that  Selma  was  seriously  offended  with  her,  and  though 
she  did  not  choose  to  acknowledge  to  herself  that  she 
knew  the  cause,  she  had  already  guessed  it.  An  en- 
counter at  repartee  had  no  terrors  for  her,  if  necessary, 
and  the  occasion  seemed  to  her  opportune  for  probing 
the  accumulating  mysteries  of  Selma's  hostile  de- 
meanor. Yet,  without  waiting  for  a  response  to  her 
last  remark,  she  changed  the  subject,  and  said, 
volubly,  "  I  hear  that  your  husband  has  refused  to 
build  the  new  Parsons  house  because  Mrs.  Parsons 
insisted  on  drawing  the  plans." 

Selma's  pale,  tense  face  flushed.  She  thought  for  a 
moment  that  she  was  being  taunted. 

"That  was  Mr.  Littleton's  decision,  not  mine." 

"  I  admire  his  independence.  He  was  quite  right. 
What  do  Mrs,  Parsons  or  her  daughter  know  about 
238 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

architecture  ?  Everybody  is  laughing  at  them.  You 
know  I  consider  your  husband  a  friend  of  mine,  Selma." 

"  And  we  were  friends,  too,  I  believe  ? "  Selma  ex- 
claimed, after  a  moment  of  stern  silence. 

"  Naturally,"  responded  Flossy,  with  a  slightly  sar- 
donic air,  prompted  by  the  acerbity  with  which  the 
question  was  put. 

"  Then,  if  we  were  friends— are  friends,  why  have 
you  ceased  to  associate  with  us,  simply  because  you  live 
in  another  street  and  a  finer  house  ?  " 

Flossy  gave  a  gasp.  "  Oh,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  it's 
true.  She  is  jealous.  Why  didn't  I  appreciate  it  be- 
fore?" 

"  Am  I  not  associating  with  you  now  by  calling  on 
you,  Selma  ? "  she  said  aloud.  "  I  don't  understand 
what  you  mean." 

"  You  are  calling  on  me,  and  you  asked  us  to  dinner 
to  meet — to  meet  just  the  people  we  knew  already,  and 
didn't  care  to  meet;  but  yon  have  never  asked  us  to 
meet  your  new  friends,  and  you  left  us  out  when  you 
gave  your  dancing  party." 

"  You  do  not  dance." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?" 

"I  have  never  associated  you  with  dancing.  I  as- 
sumed that  you  did  not  dance." 

"  What  grounds  had  you  for  such  an  assumption  ?  " 

"Really,  Selma,  your  catechism  is  most  extraordi- 
nary. Excuse  my  smiling.  And  I  don't  know  how  to 
answer  your  questions — your  fierce  questions  any  better. 
I  didn't  ask  you  to  my  party  because  I  supposed  that 
you  and  your  husband  were  not  interested  in  that  sort 
of  thing,  and  would  not  know  any  of  the  people.  You 
have  often  told  me  that  you  thought  they  were  frivolous/' 
239 


UNLEAVENED  BKEAD 

"I  consider  them  so  still." 

"  Then  why  do  you  complain  ? " 

"  Because — because  you  have  not  acted  like  a  friend. 
Your  idea  of  friendship  has  been  to  pour  into  my  ears, 
day  after  day,  how  you  had  been  asked  to  dinner  by  this 
person  and  taken  up  by  that  person,  until  I  was  weary 
of  the  sound  of  your  voice,  but  it  seems  not  to  have 
occurred  to  you,  as  a  friend  of  mine,  and  a  friend  and 
admirer  of  my  husband,  to  introduce  us  to  people 
whom  you  were  eager  to  know,  and  who  might  have 
helped  him  in  his  profession.  And  now,  after  turning 
the  cold  shoulder  on  us,  and  omitting  us  from  your 
party,  because  you  assumed  I  didn't  dance,  you  have 
come  here  this  morning,  in  the  name  of  friendship,  to 
tell  me  that  your  cousins,  at  last,  have  invited  you  to 
dinner.  And  yet  you  think  it  strange  that  Fm  not  in- 
terested. That's  the  only  reason  you  came — to  let  me 
know  that  you  are  a  somebody  now  ;  and  you  expected 
me,  as  a  friend  and  a  nobody,  to  tell  you  how  glad  I  am." 

Flossy's  eyes  opened  wide.  Free  as  she  was  accustomed 
to  be  in  her  own  utterances,  this  flow  of  bitter  speech 
delivered  with  seer-like  intensity  was  a  new  experience 
to  her.  She  did  not  know  whether  to  be  angry  or 
amused  by  the  indictment,  which  caused  her  to  wince 
notwithstanding  that  she  deemed  it  slander.  Moreover 
the  insinuation  that  she  had  been  a  bore  was  humiliating. 

f '  I  shall  not  weary  you  soon  again  with  my  confi- 
dences," she  answered.  "  So  it  appears  that  you  were 
envious  of  me  all  the  time — that  while  you  were  preach- 
ing to  me  that  fashionable  society  was  hollow  and  un- 
American,  you  were  secretly  unhappy  because  you 
couldn't  do  what  I  was  doing — because  you  weren't  in- 
Tited,  too.  Oh,  I  see  it  all  now  ;  it's  clear  as  daylight. 
240 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Fve  suspected  the  truth  for  some  time,  but  I've  refused 
to  credit  it.  Now  everything  is  explained.  I  took  you 
at  your  word  ;  I  believed  in  you  and  your  husband  and 
looked  up  to  you  as  literary  people — people  who  were 
interested  in  fine  and  ennobling  things.  I  admired  you 
for  the  very  reason  that  I  thought  you  didn't  care,  and 
that  you  didn't  need  to  care,  about  society  and  fashion- 
able position.  I  kept  saying  to  you  that  I  envied  you 
your  tastes,  and  let  you  see  that  I  considered  myself  your 
real  inferior  in  my  determination  to  attract  attention  and 
oblige  society  to  notice  us.  I  was  guileless  and  simpleton 
enough  to  tell  you  of  my  progress — things  I  would  have 
blushed  to  tell  another  woman  like  myself — because  I 
considered  you  the  embodiment  of  high  aims  and  spirit- 
ual ideas,  as  far  superior  to  mine  as  the  poetic  star  is 
superior  to  the  garish  electric  light.  I  thought  it  might 
amuse  you  to  listen  to  my  vanities.  Instead,  it  seems  you 
were  masquerading  and  were  eating  your  heart  out  with 
envy  of  me — poor  me.  You  were  ambitious  to  be  like 
me." 

"  I  wouldn't  be  like  you  for  anything  in  the  world." 
"  You  couldn't  if  you  tried.  That's  one  of  the  things 
which  this  extraordinary  interview  has  made  plain  be- 
yond the  shadow  of  a  doubt.  You  are  aching  to  be  a 
social  success.  You  are  not  fit  to  be.  I  have  found 
that  out  for  certain  to-day." 

"  It  is  false,"  exclaimed  Selma,  with  a  tragic  intona- 
tion. "  You  do  not  understand.  I  have  no  wish  to  be 
a  social  success.  I  should  abhor  to  spend  my  life  after 
the  manner  of  you  and  your  associates.  What  I  object 
to,  what  I  complain  of,  is  that,  in  spite  of  your  fine 
words  and  pretended  admiration  of  me,  you  have  pre- 
ferred these  people,  who  are  exclusive  without  a  shadow 
241 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

of  right,  to  me  who  was  your  friend,  and  that  you  have 
chosen  to  ignore  me  for  the  sake  of  them,  and  behaved 
as  if  yon  thought  I  was  not  their  equal  or  your  equal. 
That  is  not  friendship,  it  is  snobbishness — un-American 
snobbishnflM." 

"  It  is  very  amusing.  Amusing  yet  depressing,"  contin  - 
ued  Flossy,  without  heed  to  this  asseveration.  "  You  have 
proved  one  of  my  ideals  to  be  a  delusion,  which  is  sad." 
She  had  arisen  and  stood  gently  swaying  pendent  by  its 
crook  her  gay  parasol,  with  her  head  on  one  side,  and 
seeming  for  once  to  be  choosing  her  words  judicially. 
"  When  we  met  first  and  I  nearly  rushed  into  your  arms, 
I  was  fascinated,  and  I  said  to  myself  that  here  was  the 
sort  of  American  woman  of  whom  I  had  dreamed — the 
sort  of  woman  I  had  fondly  imagined  once  that  I  might 
become.  I  saw  you  were  unsophisticated  and  different 
from  the  conventional  women  to  whom  I  was  accustomed, 
and,  even  at  first,  the  things  you  said  every  now  and  then 
gave  me  a  creepy  feeling,  but  you  were  inspiring  to  look 
at — though  now  that  the  scales  have  fallen  from  my  eyes 
I  wonder  at  my  infatuation — and  I  continued  to  wor- 
ship yon  as  a  goddess  on  a  pedestal.  I  used  to  say  to 
Gregory,  'there's  a  couple  who  are  to  the  manner 
born  ;  they  never  have  to  make  believe.  They  are  gen- 
uinely free  and  gentle  souls.'  Your  husband  ?  I  can't 
believe  that  I  have  been  deluded  in  regard  to  him,  also. 
I  just  wonder  if  you  appreciate  him — if  it  is  possible 
that  he  has  been  deluded,  also.  Thafs  rank  imperti- 
nence, I  know ;  but  after  all,  we  are  unbosoming  ou: 
thoughts  to  each  other  to-day,  and  may  as  well  speak 
openly.  You  said  just  now  that  it  was  his  decision  not 
to  go  on  with  the  Parsons  house.  Did  yon  disapprove 
of  it?" 

242 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"Yes,  I  disapproved  of  it,"  answered  Selma  with 
flashing  eyes.  "  And  what  if  I  did  ?  " 

She  rose  and  stood  confronting  her  visitor  as  though 
to  banish  her  from  the  house. 

"  Fm  going/'  said  Flossy.  "  It's  none  of  my  concern 
of  course,  and  I'm  aware  that  I  appear  very  rude.  I'm 
anxious  though  not  to  lose  faith  in  your  husband,  and 
now  that  I've  begun  to  understand  you,  my  wits  are 
being  flooded  with  light.  I  was  saying  that  you  were 
not  fit  to  be  a  social  success,  and  I'm  going  to  tell  you 
why.  No  one  else  is  likely  to,  and  I'm  just  mischievous 
and  frank  enough.  You're  one  of  those  American 
women — I've  always  been  curious  to  meet  one  in  all  her 
glory — who  believe  that  they  are  born  in  the  complete 
panoply  of  flawless  womanhood  ;  that  they  are  by  birth- 
right consummate  house-wives,  leaders  of  the  world's 
thought  and  ethics,  and  peerless  society  queens.  All 
this  by  instinct,  by  heritage,  and  without  education. 
Thafs  what  you  believe,  isn't  it  ?  And  now  you  are 
offended  because  you  haven't  been  invited  to  become  a 
leader  of  New  York  society.  Yon  don't  understand,  and 
I  don't  suppose  you  ever  will  understand,  that  a  true 
lady — a  genuine  society  queen — represents  modesty  and 
sweetness  and  self-control,  and  gentle  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings ;  that  she  is  evolved  by  gradual  processes  from  gen- 
eration to  generation,  not  ready  made.  Oh,  you  needn't 
look  at  me  like  that.  I'm  quite  aware  that  if  I  were 
the  genuine  article  I  shouldn't  be  talking  to  you  in  this 
fashion.  But  there's  hope  for  me  because  I'm  conscious 
of  my  shortcomings  and  am  trying  to  correct  them ; 
whereas  you  are  satisfied,  and  fail  to  see  the  difference 
between  yourself  and  the  well-bred  women  whom  you 
envy  and  sneer  at.  You're  pretty  and  smart  and  super- 
243 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

ficial  aiid — er — common,  and  you  don't  know  it.  I'm, 
rather  dreadfnl,  but  Fm  learning.  I  don't  believe  you 
will  ever  learn.  There  !  Now  I'm  going." 

"Go  ! "  cried  Selma  with  a  wave  of  her  arm.  "  Yes, 
I  am  one  of  those  women.  I  am  proud  to  be,  and  you 
have  insulted  by  your  aspersions,  not  only  me,  but  the 
spirit  of  independent  and  aspiring  American  woman- 
hood. You  don't  understand  us  ;  you  have  nothing  in 
common  with  us.  You  think  to  keep  us  down  by  your 
barriers  of  caste  borrowed  from  effete  European  courts, 
but  we — I — the  American  people  defy  you.  The  time 
will  come  when  we  shall  rise  in  our  might  and  teach  you 
your  place.  Go  !  Envy  you  ?  I  would  not  become  one  of 
your  frivolous  and  purposeless  set  if  you  were  all  on 
your  bended  knees  before  me." 

"  Oh,  yes  you  would,"  exclaimed  Flossy,  glancing  back 
over  her  shoulder.  "  And  it's  because  you've  not  been 
given  the  chance  that  we  have  quarrelled  now." 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  morning  after  her  drastic  intervl  with  Mrs. 
Williams,  Selma  studied  herself  searching^  her  mir- 
ror. Of  all  Flossy *s  candid  strictures  tUntimation 
that  she  was  not  and  never  would  be  comjely  a  lady 
was  the  only  one  which  rankled.  The  eftttery  of  it 
made  her  blood  boil ;  and  yet  she  consultedfer  glass  in 
the  seclusion  of  her  chamber  in  order  to  realre  herself 
as  to  the  spiteful  falsity  of  the  criticism.  Hid  horses 
would  not  have  induced  her  to  admit  even  to  Vself  that 
there  was  the  slightest  ground  for  it;  still! rankled, 
thereby  suggesting  a  sub-consciousness  of  sfacion  on 
the  look  out  for  just  such  a  calumny. 

She  gave  Littleton  her  own  version  of  thlquarrel. 
Her  explanation  was  that  she  had  charged  Ffcsy  with 
a  lack  of  friendship  in  failing  to  invite  her  taer  ball, 
and  convicted  her  of  detestable  snobbery  ;  thafehe  had 
denounced  this  conduct  in  vigorous  language,  iat  they 
had  parted  in  anger,  and  that  all  intercourse  \etween 
them  was  at  an  end. 

"  We  understand  each  other  now,"  she  added.  \I  have 
felt  for  some  time  that  we  were  no  longer  sympathetic  ; 
and  that  something  of  this  kind  was  inevitable.  \  I  am 
glad  that  we  had  the  chance  to  speak  plainly,  foil  was 
able  to  show  her  that  I  had  been  waiting  for  an  bccuse 
to  cut  loose  from  her  and  her  frivolous  surroundings.  I 
have  wearied  my  spirit  long  enough  with  listening  to 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

social  inanities,  and  in  lowering  my  standards  to  hers 
for  the  sake  of  appearing  friendly  and  conventional. 
That  is  all  over  now,  thank  heaven." 

It  did  not  occur  to  Selma  that  there  was  any  incon- 
sistency in  tiese  observations,  or  that  they  might  appear 
a  partial  vindication  of  her  husband's  point  of  view. 
The  most  salient  effect  of  her  encounter  with  Flossy  had 
been  suddenly  to  fuse  and  crystallize  her  mixed  and 
seemingly  ccitradictory  ambitions  into  utter  hostility  to 
conventional  fashionable  society.  Even  when  her  heart 
had  been  kmgering  for  an  invitation  to  Flossy's  ball, 
she  considered  that  she  despised  these  people,  but  the 
interview  lad  served  to  establish  her  in  the  glowing 
faith  that  they,  by  their  inability  to  appreciate  her,  had 
shown  themselves  unworthy  of  further  consideration. 
The  desin  which  she  had  experienced  of  late  for  a  re- 
newal of  ler  intimacy  with  Mrs.  Earle  and  a  reassertion 
of  her  fomer  life  of  independent  feminine  activity  had 
returned  ;o  her,  coupled  with  the  crusading  intention 
to  enroll  herself  openly  once  more  in  the  army  of  new 
Americai  women,  whose  impending  victorious  cam- 
paign sle  had  prophesied  in  her  retort  to  Mrs.  Will- 
iams's  nuledictions.  She  had,  in  her  own  opinion,  never 
ceased  t>  belong  to  this  army,  and  she  felt  herself  now 
more  fimly  convinced  than  ever  that  the  course  of  life 
of  thosi  who  had  turned  a  cold  shoulder  on  her  was 
hostile  ;o  the  spirit  of  American  institutions.  So  far  as 
her  hniband  was  concerned,  imaginative  enterprise  and 
the  capacity  to  take  advantage  of  opportunities  still 
seemet  to  her  of  the  essence  of  fine  character.  Indeed, 
she  was  not  conscious  of  any  change  in  her  point  of  view. 
She  hxd  resented  Flossy's  charge  that  she  desired  to  be  a 
social  success,  and  had  declared  that  her  wounded  feel- 
246 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

ings  were  solely  due  to  Flossy's  betrayal  of  friendship, 
not  to  balked  social  ambition.  Consequently  it  was  no 
strain  on  her  conscientiousness  to  feel  that  her  real 
sentiments  had  always  been  the  same. 

Nevertheless  she  scrutinized  herself  eagerly  and  long 
in  her  mirror,  and  the  process  left  her  serious  brow  still 
clouded.  She  saw  in  the  glass  features  which  seemed  to 
her  suggestive  of  superior  womanhood,  a  slender  clear-cut 
nose,  the  nostrils  of  which  dilated  nervously,  delicately 
thin,  compressed  lips,  a  pale,  transparent  complexion, 
and  clear,  steel-like,  greenish-brown  eyes  looking  straight 
and  boldly  from  an  anxious  forehead  surmounted  with  a 
coiffure  of  elaborately  and  smoothly  arranged  hair.  She 
saw  indisputable  evidence  that  she  had  ceased  to  be  the 
ethically  attractive,  but  modishly  unsophisticated  and 
physically  undeveloped  girl,  who  had  come  to  New  York 
five  years  before,  for  her  figure  was  compact  without  be- 
ing unduly  plump,  her  cheeks  becomingly  oval,  and  her 
toilette  stylish.  There  were  rings  on  her  fingers,  and  her 
neck-gear  was  smart.  Altogether  the  vision  was  satisfac- 
tory, yet  she  recognized  as  she  gazed  that  her  appearance 
and  general  effect  were  not  precisely  those  of  Flossy, 
Pauline,  or  Mrs.  Hallett  Taylor.  She  had  always  prided 
herself  on  the  distinction  of  her  face,  and  admired  espe- 
cially its  freedom  from  gross  or  unintellectual  lines.  She 
did  not  intend  to  question  its  superiority  now  ;  but 
Flossy's  offensive  words  rang  in  her  ears  and  caused  her 
to  gnaw  her  lips  with  annoyance.  What  was  the  differ- 
ence between  them  ?  Flossy  had  dared  to  call  her  com- 
mon and  superficial ;  had  dared  to  insinuate  that  she 
never  could  be  a  lady.  A  lady  ?  What  was  there  in  her 
appearance  not  lady-like  ?  In  what  way  was  she  the  in- 
ferior of  any  of  them  in  beauty,  intelligence  or  character  ? 
247 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Rigorous  as  was  the  scrutiny,  the  face  in  the  mirror 
seemed  to  her  an  unanswerable  refutation  of  the  slander. 
What  was  the  difference  ?  Was  it  that  her  eyes  were 
keener  and  brighter,  her  lips  thinner  and  less  fleshly, 
her  general  expression  more  wide-awake  and  self-reliant  ? 
If  so,  were  these  not  signs  of  superiority;  signs  that  they, 
not  she,  were  deficient  in  the  attributes  of  the  best  mod- 
ern womanhood  in  spite  of  their  affectation  of  exclusive- 
ness  ? 

The  result  of  this  process  of  self-examination  in  her 
looking-glass,  which  was  not  limited  to  a  single  occa- 
sion, established  more  firmly  than  ever  in  Selma's  opin- 
ion the  malignant  falsity  of  the  imputation,  and  yet  she 
was  still  haunted  by  it.  She  was  tortured  by  the  secret 
thought  that,  though  her  ambition  had  been  to  become 
just  like  those  other  women,  she  was  still  distinguish- 
able from  them ;  and  moreover,  that  she  was  baffled  in 
her  attempt  to  analyze  the  distinction.  Distinguishable 
even  from  Flossy — from  Flossy,  who  had  slighted  and 
then  reviled  her!  Why  had  she  ever  faltered  in  her 
distrust  of  these  enemies  of  true  American  society  ? 
Yet  this  lingering  sense  of  torture  served  to  whet  her 
new-found  purpose  to  have  done  with  them  forever, 
and  to  obtain  the  recognition  and  power  to  which 
she  was  entitled,  in  spite  of  their  impertinence  and 
neglect. 

The  announcement  was  made  to  her  by  Wilbur  at 
about  this  time  that  his  plans  for  Wetmore  College  had 
been  accepted,  and  that  he  was  to  be  the  architect  of 
the  new  buildings.  As  he  told  her  his  face  showed  a 
tremulous  animation  which  it  had  not  worn  for  many 
weeks,  and  he  regarded  her  for  a  moment  with  shy 
eagerness,  as  though  he  half  hoped  that  this  vindication 
248 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

of  his  purposes  by  success  might  prompt  her  to  tender 
some  sort  of  apology,  and  thus  afford  him  the  chance 
to  persuade  himself  that  he  had  been  mistaken  after  all 
in  his  judgment  of  her. 

"  You  must  be  very  much  pleased/'  she  said.  "And 
so  am  I,  of  course."  Then,  after  a  moment  of  reflective 
abstraction,  she  asked  with  sudden  eagerness,  "How 
long  will  it  take  to  build  them  ?  " 

"  Two  or  three  years,  I  suppose." 

"And  you  would  be  obliged  to  go  frequently  to  Ben- 
ham  ?  " 

"  In  order  to  oversee  the  work  I  should  have  to  make 
short  trips  there  from  time  to  time." 

"Yes.  Wilbur,"  she  exclaimed,  with  her  exalted 
expression,  ' e  why  shouldn't  we  go  to  Benham  to  live  ? 
I  have  been  thinking  a  great  deal  lately  about  what  we 
said  to  each  other  that  time  when  you  felt  so  badly,  and 
I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  our  living  in  New 
York  is  what  is  really  the  trouble.  I  have  the  feeling, 
Wilbur,  that  in  some  other  place  than  this  cruel,  con- 
ventional city  we  should  be  happier  than  we  are  now — 
indeed,  very  happy.  Has  it  ever  occurred  to  you  ?  You 
see,  New  York  doesn't  understand  me;  it  doesn't  un- 
derstand you,  Wilbur.  It  sneers  at  our  aspirations. 
Benham  is  a  growing,  earnest  city — a  city  throbbing 
with  the  best  American  spirit  and  energy.  I  suggest 
Benham  because  we  both  know  it  so  well.  The  college 
buildings  would  give  you  a  grand  start,  and  I — we  both 
would  be  in  our  proper  sphere." 

Littleton  had  started  at  the  suggestion.  As  a  drown- 
ing man  will  grasp  at  a  straw,  his  grieving  soul  for  an 
instant  entertained  the  plan  as  a  panacea  for  their  woes. 
But  his  brow  grew  grave  and  sad  under  the  influence  of 
249 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

reflection  as  she  proceeded  to  set  forth  her  reasons  in 
her  wrapt  fashion.  If  he  had  not  learned  to  remain  cold 
under  the  witchery  of  her  intense  moods,  he  no  longer 
hesitated  to  probe  her  fervid  assertions  with  his  self-re- 
specting common-sense. 

"  I  would  be  willing  to  go  to  the  ends  of  the  earth, 
Selma,"  he  answered,  "  if  I  believed  that  by  so  doing 
you  and  I  could  become  what  we  once  were  to  each 
other.  But  I  cannot  see  why  we  should  hope  to  be  hap- 
pier in  Benham  than  here,  nor  do  I  agree  with  you  that 
this  is  not  our  proper  sphere.  I  do  not  share  your  sen- 
timents in  regard  to  New  York  ;  but  whatever  its  faults, 
New  York  is  the  place  where  I  have  established  myself 
and  am  known,  and  where  the  abilities  which  I  possess 
can  be  utilized  and  will  be  appreciated  soonest.  Ben- 
ham  is  twenty-five  years  behind  this  city  in  all  things 
which  concern  art  and  my  professional  life,  as  you  well 
know." 

Selma  flushed.  "  On  the  contrary,  I  have  reason  to 
believe  that  Benham  has  made  wonderful  progress  in  the 
last  five  years.  My  friends  there  write  that  there  are 
many  new  streets  and  beautiful  buildings,  and  that  the 
spirit  of  the  place  is  enthusiastic  and  liberal,  not  luxuri- 
ous and  sneering.  You  never  appreciated  Benham  at 
its  true  worth,  Wilbur." 

"  Perhaps  not.     But  we  chose  New  York." 
"Then  yon  insist  on  remaining  here  ?" 
"  I  see  no  reason  for  sacrificing  the  fruits  of  the  past 
five  years — for  pulling  myself  up  by  the  roots  and  mak- 
ing a  fresh  start.     From  a  professional  point  of  view,  I 
think  it  would  be  madness." 

"  Not  even  to  save  our  happiness  ? "    Selma's  eyes 
swam  and  her  lips  trembled  as  she  spoke.     She  felt  very 
250 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

miserable,  and  she  yearned  with  the  desire  that  her  hus- 
band would  clasp  her  in  his  arms  in  a  vast  embrace,  and 
tell  her  that  she  was  right  and  that  he  would  go.  She 
felt  that  if  he  did,  the  horror  of  the  past  would  be 
wiped  out  and  loving  harmony  be  restored. 

Wilbur's  lips  trembled,  too.  He  gazed  at  her  for  a 
moment  without  speaking,  in  conflict  with  himself  ; 
then  passing  his  hand  across  his  forehead,  as  though  he 
would  sweep  away  a  misty  spell  from  his  eyes,  said,  "  Be 
sensible,  Selma.  If  we  could  be  happy  in  Benham,  we 
should  be  happy  here." 

"  Then  you  refuse  ?  " 

"  For  the  present,  yes." 

"  And  I  must  remain  here  to  be  insulted — and  a  no- 
body." 

"  For  God's  sake,  Selma,  let  us  not  renew  that  discus- 
sion. What  you  ask  is  impossible  at  present,  but  I 
shall  remember  that  it  is  your  wish,  and  when  I  begin 
my  work  at  Benham  the  circumstances  and  surround- 
ings may  be  such  that  I  shall  feel  willing  to  move." 

Selma  turned  to  the  table  and  took  up  a  book,  dissat- 
isfied, yet  buoyed  by  a  new  hope.  She  did  not  observe 
the  tired  lines  on  her  husband's  face — the  weariness  of  a 
soul  disappointed  in  its  most  precious  aspirations. 

Within  the  next  month  it  happened  that  a  terrible 
and  unusual  fatality  was  the  occasion  of  the  death  of  both 
Mrs.  Parsons  and  her  daughter.  They  were  killed  by  a 
fall  of  the  elevator  at  the  hotel  in  which  they  were  liv- 
ing— one  of  those  dire  casualties  which  are  liable  to  hap- 
pen to  any  one  of  us  in  these  days  of  swift  and  compli- 
cated apparatus,  but  which  always  seem  remote  from 
personal  experience.  This  cruel  blow  of  fate  put  an  end 
to  all  desire  on  the  part  of  the  bereaved  husband  and 
251 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

father  to  remain  in  New  York,  whither  he  had  come  to 
live  mainly  to  please  his  women  folk,  as  he  called  them. 
As  soon  as  he  recovered  from  the  bewilderment  of  the 
shock,  Mr.  Parsons  sent  for  the  architect  who  had  taken 
Littleton's  place,  and  who  had  just  begun  the  subservi- 
ent task  of  fusing  diverse  types  of  architecture  in  order 
to  satisfy  an  American  woman's  appetite  for  startling 
effect,  and  told  him  to  arrange  to  dispose  of  the  lot 
and  its  immature  walls  to  the  highest  bidder.  His  pre- 
cise plans  for  the  future  were  still  uncertain  when 
Selma  called  on  him,  and  found  comfort  for  her  own 
miseries  in  ministering  to  his  solitude,  but  he  expressed 
an  inclination  to  return  to  his  native  Western  town,  as 
the  most  congenial  spot  in  which  to  end  his  days. 
Selma,  whose  soul  was  full  of  Benham,  suggested  it  as 
an  alternative,  enlarging  with  contagious  enthusiasm 
on  its  civic  merits.  The  crushed  old  man  listened  with 
growing  attention.  Already  the  germs  of  a  plan  for  the 
disposition  of  his  large  property  were  sprouting  in  his 
mind  to  provide  him  with  a  refuge  from  despondency. 
He  was  a  reticent  man,  not  in  the  habit  of  confiding  his 
affairs  until  ready  to  act,  but  he  paid  interested  heed  to 
Selma's  eulogy  of  the  bustling  energy  and  rapid  growth 
of  Benham.  His  preliminary  thought  had  been  that  it 
would  make  him  happy  to  endow  his  native  town,  which 
was  a  small  and  inconspicuous  place,  with  a  library 
building.  But,  as  his  visitor  referred  to  the  attractions 
and  admirable  public  spirit  of  the  thriving  city,  which 
was  in  the  same  State  as  his  own  home,  he  silently  rea- 
soned that  residence  there  need  not  interfere  with  his 
original  project,  and  that  he  might  find  a  wide  and 
more  important  field  for  his  benefactions  in  a  commu- 
nity so  representative  of  American  ideas  and  principles. 
252 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Selma's  visits  of  condolence  to  Mr.  Parsons  were  in- 
terrupted by  the  illness  of  her  own  husband.  In  reflect- 
ing, subsequently,  she  remembered  that  he  had  seemed 
weary  and  out  of  sorts  for  several  days,  but  her  conscious 
attention  was  invoked  by  his  coming  home  early  in  the 
afternoon,  suffering  from  a  violent  chill,  and  manifestly 
in  a  state  of  physical  collapse.  He  went  to  bed  at 
once  ;  Selma  brought  blankets  and  a  hot-water  bottle, 
and  Dr.  George  Page  was  sent  for.  Dr.  Page  was  the 
one  of  Littleton's  friends  whom  Selma  had  unsuccess- 
fully yearned  to  know  better.  She  had  never  been  able 
to  understand  him  exactly,  but  he  fascinated  her  in  spite 
of — perhaps  because  of — his  bantering  manner.  She 
found  difficulty  in  reconciling  it  with  his  reputation  for 
hard  work  and  masterly  skill  in  his  profession.  She  was 
constantly  hoping  to  extract  from  him  something  worthy 
of  his  large,  solid  face,  with  its  firm  mouth  and  general 
expression  of  reserve  force,  but  he  seemed  always  bent 
on  talking  nonsense  in  her  society,  and  more  than  once 
the  disagreeable  thought  had  occurred  to  her  that  he 
was  laughing  at  her.  He  had  come  to  the  house  after 
her  marriage  now  and  then,  but  during  the  past  year  or 
two  she  had  scarcely  seen  him.  The  last  time  when 
they  had  met,  Selma  had  taxed  him  with  his  neglect  of 
her. 

His  reply  had  been  characteristically  elusive  and  un- 
satisfactory. "  I  will  not  attempt  to  frame  excuses  for 
my  behavior,  Mrs.  Littleton,  for  no  reason  which  I  could 
offer  would  be  a  justification. " 

But  on  the  present  occasion  his  greeting  was  grave 
and  eager. 

"  Wilbur  sick  ?  I  feared  as  much.  I  warned  Pauline 
two  months  ago  that  he  was  overworking,  and  only 
253 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

last  week  I  told  him  that  he  would  break  down  if  'm, 
did  not  go  away  for  a  fortnight's  rest." 

"  I  wish  you  had  spoken  to  me/' 

Selma  noted  with  satisfaction  that  there  was  no  raillery 
in  his  manner  now.  He  bent  his  gaze  on  her  search- 
ingly. 

"  Have  you  not  noticed  that  he  looked  ill  and  tired  ?" 

She  did  not  flinch.  Why  indeed  should  she?  "A 
little.  He  tired  himself,  I  think,  over  the  designs  for 
Wetmore  College,  which  he  did  in  addition  to  his  other 
work.  But  since  the  award  was  made  it  has  seemed  to 
me  that  he  was  looking  better." 

She  started  to  lead  the  way  to  Wilbur's  room,  but  the 
doctor  paused,  and  regarding  her  again  fixedly,  as 
though  he  had  formed  a  resolution  to  ferret  the  secrets 
of  her  soul,  said  laconically  : 

"  Is  he  happy  ?  " 

"  Happy  ?  "  she  echoed. 

"  Has  he  anything  on  his  mind,  I  mean — anything 
except  his  work  ?" 

"Nothing — that  is,"  she  added,  looking  up  at  her 
inquisitor  with  bright,  interested  eyes,  "nothing  except 
that  he  is  very  conscientious — over-conscientious  I 
sometimes  think."  To  be  bandying  psychological 
analyses  with  this  able  man  was  an  edifying  experience 
despite  her  concern  for  Wilbur. 

"  I  see,"  he  answered  dryly,  and  for  an  instant  there 
was  a  twinkle  in  his  eyes.  Yet  he  added,  "  To  make  a 
correct  diagnosis  it  is  important  to  know  all  the  facts  of 
the  case." 

"  Of  course,"  she  said  solemnly,  reassured  in  her  be- 
lief that  she  was  being  consulted  and  was  taking  part 
in  the  treatment  of  her  husband's  malady. 
254 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

She  Accompanied  Dr.  Page  to  Wilbur's  bed-side.  He 
conversed  in  a  cheery  tone  with  his  friend  while  he  took 
his  temperature  and  made  what  seemed  to  her  a  com- 
paratively brief  examination.  Selma  jumped  to  the 
conclusion  that  there  was  nothing  serious  the  matter. 
The  moment  they  had  left  the  room,  the  doctor's  man- 
ner changed,  and  he  said  with  alert  concern  : 

"  Your  husband  is  very  ill ;  he  has  pneumonia.  I  am 
going  to  send  for  a  nurse." 

"  A  nurse  ?    I  will  nurse  him  myself,  Dr.  Page." 

It  seemed  to  her  the  obvious  thing  to  do.  She  spoke 
proudly,  for  it  flashed  into  her  mind  that  here  was  the 
opportunity  to  redeem  the  situation  with  Wilbur.  She 
would  tend  him  devotedly  and  when  he  had  been  re- 
stored to  health  by  her  loving  skill,  perhaps  he  would 
appreciate  her  at  her  worth,  and  recognize  that  she  had 
thwarted  him  only  to  help  him. 

The  doctor's  brow  darkened,  and  he  said  with  an 
emphasis  which  was  almost  stern  :  "  Mrs.  Littleton,  I  do 
not  wish  to  alarm  you,  but  it  is  right  that  you  should 
know  that  Wilbur's  symptoms  are  grave.  I  hope  to 
save  his  life,  but  it  can  be  saved  only  by  trained  skill 
and  attendance.  Inexperienced  assistance,  however 
devoted,  would  be  of  no  use  in  a  case  like  this." 

"  But  I  only  wished  to  nurse  him." 

"I  know  it ;  I  understand  perfectly.  You  supposed 
that  anyone  could  do  that.  At  least  that  you  could.  I 
shall  return  in  an  hour  at  the  latest  with  a  nurse  who 
was  trained  for  three  years  in  a  hospital  to  fit  her  to 
battle  for  valuable  lives." 

Selma  flushed  with  annoyance.     She  felt  that  she  was 
being  ridiculed  and  treated  as  though  she  were  an  inca- 
pable doll.     She  divined  that  by  his  raillery  he  had  been 
255 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

making  fun  of  her,  and  forthwith  her  predilection  was 
turned  to  resentment.  Not  nurse  her  husband  ?  Did 
this  brow-beating  doctor  realize  that,  as  a  girl,  she  had 
been  the  constant  attendant  of  her  invalid  father,  and 
that  more  than  once  it  had  occurred  to  her  that  her  true 
mission  in  life  might  be  to  become  a  nurse  ?  Training? 
She  would  prove  to  him  that  she  needed  no  further 
training.  These  were  her  thoughts,  and  she  felt  like 
crying,  because  he  had  humiliated  her  at  a  time  like 
this.  Yet  she  had  let  Dr.  Page  go  without  a  word. 
She  returned  to  Wilbur  and  established  herself  beside 
his  bed.  He  tried  to  smile  at  her  coming. 

"  I  think  I  shall  be  better  to-morrow.  It  is  only  a 
heavy  cold,"  he  said,  but  already  he  found  difficulty 
in  speaking. 

"  I  have  come  to  nurse  you.  The  blankets  and  hot- 
water  bottle  have  made  you  warmer,  haven't  they  ? 
Nod  ;  you  mustn't  talk." 

"  Yes,"  he  whispered  huskily. 

She  felt  his  forehead,  and  it  was  burning.  She  took 
his  hand  and  saying,  "  Sh  !  You  ought  not  to  talk," 
held  it  in  her  own.  Then  there  was  silence  save  for 
Wilbur's  uneasy  turning.  It  was  plain  that  he  was  very 
uncomfortable.  She  realized  that  he  was  growing  worse, 
and  though  she  chose  to  believe  that  the  doctor  had 
exaggerated  the  seriousness  of  the  case  in  order  to 
affront  her,  the  thought  came  that  he  might  die. 
She  had  never  considered  such  a  possibility  before. 
What  should  she  do  ?  She  would  be  a  widow  without 
children  and  without  means,  for  she  knew  that  Wilbur 
had  laid  up  little  if  anything.  She  would  have  to  be- 
gin life  over  again — a  pathetic  prospect,  yet  interesting. 
Even  this  conjecture  of  such  a  dire  result  conjured  up 
256 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

a  variety  of  possible  methods  of  livelihood  and  occupa- 
tion which  sped  through  her  mind. 

The  return  of  Dr.  Page  with  a  nurse  cut  short  these 
painful  yet  engrossing  speculations.  His  offensive 
manner  appeared  to  have  exhausted  itself,  but  he  pro- 
ceeded to  install  his  companion  in  Wilbur's  room. 
Selma  would  have  liked  to  turn  her  out  of  the  house, 
but  realized  that  she  could  not  run  the  risk  of  taking 
issue  with  him  at  a  time  when  her  husband's  life  might 
be  in  danger.  With  an  injured  air  yet  in  silence  she 
beheld  the  deliberate  yet  swift  preparations.  Once  or 
twice  Dr.  Page  asked  her  to  procure  for  him  some  arti- 
cle or  appliance  likely  to  be  in  the  house,  speaking  with 
a  crisp,  business-like  preoccupation  which  virtually 
ignored  her  existence,  yet  was  free  from  offence.  His 
soul  evidently  was  absorbed  by  his  patient,  whom  he 
observed  with  alert  watchfulness,  issuing  brief  directions 
now  and  then  to  his  white-capped,  methodical,  and 
noiseless  assistant.  Selma  sat  with  her  hands  before 
her  in  a  corner  of  the  bed-room,  practically  ignored. 
The  shadows  deepened  and  a  maid  announced  dinner. 
Dr.  Page  looked  at  his  watch. 

"I  shall  pass  the  night  here/'  he  said. 

"  Is  he  worse  ?  " 

"  The  disease  is  making  progress  and  must  run  its 
course.  This  is  only  the  beginning.  You  should  eat 
your  dinner,  for  you  will  need  your  strength,"  he  added 
with  simple  graciousness. 

"  But  I  am  doing  nothing,"  she  blurted. 

"It  there  is  anything  you  can  do  I  will  let  you 
know." 

Their  eyes  met.  His  were  gray  and  steady,  but  kind. 
She  felt  that  he  chcae  to  treat  her  like  a  child,  yet  that 
257 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

he  was  trying  to  be  considerate.  She  was  galled,  out 
after  all,  he  was  the  doctor,  and  Wilbur  had  the  utmost 
confidence  in  him,  so  she  must  submit.  She  ate  her 
dinner,  and  when  she  returned  preparations  were  being 
made  for  the  night.  The  nurse  was  to  use  a  lounge  at 
the  foot  of  Wilbur's  bed.  Dr.  Page  asked  permission  to 
occupy  the  dressing-room  adjoining,  so  as  to  be  within 
easy  call.  He  established  himself  there  with  a  book, 
returning  at  short  intervals  to  look  at  his  patient.  Sel- 
ma  had  resumed  her  seat.  It  was  dark  save  for  a  night 
lamp.  In  the  stillness  the  only  sounds  were  the  ticking 
of  the  clock  on  the  mantel-piece  and  Wilbur's  labored 
breathing.  It  seemed  as  though  he  were  struggling 
for  his  life.  What  should  she  do  if  he  died  ?  Why 
was  she  debarred  from  tending  him  ?  It  was  cruel. 
Tears  fell  on  her  hand.  She  stared  into  the  darkness, 
twisting  her  fingers,  until  at  last,  as  though  to  show  her 
independence,  she  stepped  to  the  bed  on  tip-toe.  Wil- 
bur's eyes  were  open.  He  put  out  his  hand,  and,  taking 
hers,  touched  it  to  his  burning  lips. 

"  Good-night,  Selma,"  he  murmured. 

She  stooped  and  kissed  his  brow.  "  I  am  here  beside 
you,  Wilbur." 

A  figure  stood  behind  her.  She  turned,  expecting  to 
encounter  the  white-capped  sentinel.  It  was  Dr.  Page. 
He  touched  her  gently  on  the  arm.  "  We  must  let 
him  rest  now.  You  can  do  no  good.  Won't  you  go 
to  bed?" 

"Oh,  no.    I  shall  sit  with  him  all  night." 

"  Very  well.  But  it  is  important  that  yon  should 
not  speak  to  him,"  he  said  with  another  touch  of  em- 
phasis. 

She  resumed  her  seat  and  sat  out  the  night,  wide* 

m 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

awake  and  conscious  of  each  movement  on  Wilbur's 
part.  He  was  restless  and  moaning.  Twice  the  nurse 
summoned  the  doctor,  and  two  or  three  times  he  came 
to  the  bed-side  of  his  own  accord.  She  felt  slighted, 
and  once,  when  it  seemed  to  her  that  "Wilbur  was  in  dis- 
tress and  anxious  for  something,  she  forestalled  the 
nurse. 

"  He  wishes  water/'  Selma  said  sternly,  and  she 
fetched  a  glass  from  the  table  and  let  him  drink. 

Dr.  Page  took  breakfast  with  her.  She  was  conscious 
that  somehow  her  vigil  had  affected  his  estimate  of  her, 
for  his  speech  was  frank  and  direct,  as  though  he 
considered  her  now  more  fit  to  be  treated  with  con- 
fidence. 

"  He  is  very  ill,  but  he  is  holding  his  own.  If  yon 
will  lie  down  for  a  few  hours,  I  will  call  you  to  take 
Miss  Barker's  place  while  she  rests." 

This  was  gratifying,  and  tended  to  assuage  her  bit- 
terness. But  the  doctor  appeared  to  her  anxious,  and 
spent  only  a  few  minutes  at  table.  He  said  as  he  rose, 
"  Excuse  me,  but  Pauline — does  she  know  ?  " 

"I  will  send  her  word." 

Selma  would  have  been  glad  to  dispense  with  the 
presence  of  her  sister-in-law.  Their  relations  had  not 
been  sympathetic  since  the  episode  of  Miss  Bailey, 
and,  though  Pauline  still  dined  at  the  house  once  a 
week,  the  intercourse  between  them  had  become  re- 
served and  perfunctory.  She  grudged  sharing  with 
her  what  might  be  Wilbur's  last  hours.  She  grudged, 
too,  permitting  her  to  help  to  nurse  him,  especially 
now  that  her  own  capabilities  were  in  the  way  of  being 
recognized,  for  she  remembered  Dr.  Page's  partiality  for 
her.  Still,  she  appreciated  that  she  must  let  her  know. 
259 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

Pauline  arrived  speedily,  and  Selma  found  herself 
sobbing  in  her  arms.  She  was  pleased  by  this  rush  of 
feeling  on  her  own  part,  and,  confirmed  in  her  belief 
that  her  sister-in-law  was  cold  because  she  did  not  break 
down,  and,  shrinking  from  her  efforts  to  comfort  her, 
she  quickly  regained  her  self-control.  Pauline  seemed 
composed  and  cheerful,  but  the  unceasing  watchfulness 
and  manifest  tension  of  the  doctor  were  disconcerting, 
and  as  the  afternoon  shadows  deepened,  the  two  women 
sat  grave  and  silent,  appalled  by  the  suspicion  that 
Wilburs  condition  was  eminently  critical.  Yet  Dr. 
Page  volunteered  to  say  to  them  presently  : 

"  If  his  heart  holds  out,  I  am  hopeful  that  he  will 
pull  through." 

Dr.  Page  had  given  up  all  his  duties  for  the  sake  of 
Wilbur.  He  never  left  the  house,  manifestly  devoting, 
as  shown  by  the  unflagging,  absorbed  scrutiny  with 
which  he  noted  every  symptom  and  change,  the  fullest 
measure  of  his  professional  skill  and  a  heart-felt  pur- 
pose to  save  his  friend's  life  if  human  brain  or  human 
concentration  could  avail.  And  yet  he  stated  to  Pauline 
in  Selma's  hearing  that,  beyond  keeping  up  the  patient's 
strength  by  stimulants,  science  was  practically  helpless, 
and  that  all  they  could  do  was  to  wait. 

And  so  they  sat,  still  and  unemployed  watchers,  while 
day  turned  into  darkness.  From  time  to  time,  by  the 
night-lamp,  Selma  saw  Pauline  smiling  at  her  as  though 
in  defiance  of  whatever  fate  might  have  in  store. 
Selma  herself  felt  the  inclination  neither  to  smile  nor 
to  weep.  She  sat  looking  before  her  with  her  hands 
clasped,  resenting  the  powerlessness  of  the  few  remedies 
used,  and  impatient  of  the  inactivity  and  relentless 
silence.  Why  did  not  the  doctor  adopt  more  stringent 
260 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

measures  ?  Surely  there  was  something  to  be  done  to 
enable  Wilbur  to  combat  the  disease.  Dr.  Page  had  the 
reputation  of  being  a  skilful  physician,  and,  presum- 
ably, was  doing  his  best ;  but  was  it  not  possible,  was  it 
not  sensible,  to  suppose  there  was  a  different  and  better 
way  of  treating  pneumonia — a  way  which  was  as  superior 
to  the  conventional  and  stereotyped  method  as  the  true 
American  point  of  view  was  superior  in  other  matters  ? 

It  came  over  her  as  a  conviction  that  if  she  were  else- 
where— in  Benham,  for  instance — her  husband  could  be 
readily  and  brilliantly  cured.  This  impassive  mode  of 
treatment  seemed  to  her  of  one  piece  with  the  entire 
Littleton  surroundings,  the  culmination  of  which  was 
Pauline  smiling  in  the  face  of  death.  She  yearned  to  do 
something  active  and  decided.  Yet,  how  helpless  she 
was  !  This  arbitrary  doctor  was  following  his  own  dic- 
tates without  a  word  to  anyone,  and  without  suspecting 
the  existence  of  wiser  expedients. 

In  a  moment  of  rebellion  she  rose,  and  swiftly  ap- 
proaching Wilbur's  bed,  exclaimed,  fervently :  "  Is 
there  not  something  we  can  do  for  you,  darling  ? 
Something  you  feel  will  do  you  good  ?  " 

The  sufferer  faintly  smiled  and  feebly  shook  his  head, 
and  at  the  same  moment  she  was  drawn  away  by  a  firm 
hand,  and  Dr.  Page  whispered  :  "  He  is  very  weak. 
Entire  rest  is  his  only  chance.  The  least  exertion  is  a 
drain  on  his  vitality." 

"  Surely  there  must  be  some  medicine — some  power- 
ful application  which  will  help  his  breathing/'  she  re- 
torted, and  she  detected  again  the  semblance  of  laughter 
in  the  doctor's  eyes. 

"  Everything  which  modern  science  can  do  is  being 
done,  Mrs.  Littleton." 

261 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

What  was  there  but  to  resume  her  seat  and  helpless 
vigil  ?  Modern  science  ?  The  word  grated  on  her  ears. 
It  savored  to  her  of  narrow  medical  tyranny,  and  dis- 
trust of  aspiring  individuality.  Wilbur  was  dying,  and 
all  modern  science  saw  fit  to  do  was  to  give  him  brandy 
and  wait.  And  she,  his  wife — the  one  who  loved  him 
best  in  the  world,  was  powerless  to  intervene.  Nay,  she 
had  intervened,  and  modern  science  had  mocked  her. 

Selma's  eyes,  like  the  glint  of  two  swords,  bent  them- 
selves on  her  husband's  bed.  A  righteous  anger  rein- 
forced her  grieving  heart  and  made  her  spirit  militant, 
while  the  creeping  hours  passed.  Over  and  over  she 
pursued  the  tenor  of  her  protest  until  her  wearied  sys- 
tem sought  refuge  in  sleep.  She  was  not  conscious  of 
slumbering,  but  she  reasoned  later  that  she  must  have 
slept,  for  she  suddenly  became  conscious  of  a  touch  on 
the  shoulder  and  a  vibrant  utterance  of  her  name. 

"  Selma,  Selma,  you  must  come  at  once." 

Her  returning  wits  realized  that  it  was  Pauline  who 
was  arousing  her  and  urging  her  to  Wilbur's  bed- 
side. She  sprang  forward,  and  saw  the  light  of  exist- 
ence fading  from  her  husband's  eyes  into  the  mute 
dulness  of  death.  Dr.  Page  was  bending  over  him  in 
a  desperate,  but  vain,  effort  to  force  some  restorative 
between  his  lips.  At  the  foot  of  the  bed  stood  the 
nurse,  with  an  expression  which  betrayed  what  had  oc- 
curred. 

"  What  is  it,  Wilbur  ?  What  have  they  done  to  you  ? 
What  has  happened  ?  "  Selrna  cried,  looking  from  one  to 
the  other,  though  she  had  discerned  the  truth  in  a  flash. 
As  she  spoke,  Dr.  Page  desisted  from  his  undertaking, 
and  stepped  back  from  the  bed,  and  instantly  Selma 
threw  herself  on  her  knees  and  pressed  her  face  upon 
262 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Littleton's  lifeless  features.  There  was  no  response. 
His  spirit  had  departed. 

"  His  heart  could  not  stand  the  strain.  That  is  the 
great  peril  in  pneumonia,"  she  heard  the  doctor  mur- 
mur. 

"  He  is  dead,"  she  cried,  in  a  horrified  outburst,  and 
she  looked  up  at  the  pitying  group  with  the  gaze  of  an 
afflicted  lioness.  She  caught  sight  of  Pauline  smiling 
through  her  tears — that  same  unprotesting,  submissive 
smile — and  holding  out  her  hands  to  her.  Selma,  rising, 
turned  away,  and  as  her  sister-in-law  sought  to  put  her 
arm  about  her,  evaded  the  caress. 

"No — no,"  she  said.  Then  facing  her,  added,  with 
aggrieved  conviction  : 

"  I  cannot  believe  that  Wilbur's  death  was  necessary. 
Why  was  not  something  energetic  done  ?  " 

Pauline  flushed,  but,  ascribing  the  calumny  to  dis- 
tress, she  held  her  peace,  and  said,  simply  : 

"  Sh  !  dear.     You  will  understand  better  by  and  by." 


263 


BOO K  III. 
THE    SUCCESS 

CHAPTER  I. 

IT  had  never  occurred  to  Selma  that  she  might  lose 
her  husband.  Even  with  his  shortcomings  he  was  so 
important  to  her  from  the  point  of  view  of  support,  and 
her  scheme  of  life  was  so  interwoven  with  his,  she  had 
taken  for  granted  that  he  would  live  as  long  as  she  de- 
sired. She  felt  that  destiny  had  a  second  time  been 
signally  cruel  to  her,  and  that  she  was  drinking  deeply 
of  the  cup  of  sorrow.  She  was  convinced  that  Wilbur, 
had  he  lived,  would  have  moved  presently  to  Benham, 
in  accordance  with  her  desire,  and  that  they  would  then 
have  been  completely  happy  again.  Instead  he  was  dead 
and  under  the  sod,  and  she  was  left  to  face  the  world 
with  no  means  save  $5,000  from  his  life  insurance  and 
the  natural  gifts  and  soul  which  God  had  given  her. 

She  appreciated  that  she  was  still  a  comparatively 
young  woman,  and  that,  notwithstanding  her  love  for 
Wilbur,  she  had  been  unable  as  his  wife  to  exhibit  her- 
self to  the  world  in  her  true  light.  She  was  free  once 
more  to  lead  her  own  life,  and  to  obtain  due  recognition 
for  her  ideas  and  principles.  She  deplored  with  a  grief 
which  depleted  the  curve  of  her  oval  cheeks  the  prema- 
264 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

tare  end  of  her  husband's  artistic  career — an  aspiring 
soul  cut  off  on  the  threshold  of  success — yet,  though  of 
course  she  never  squarely  made  the  reflection,  she  was 
aware  that  the  development  of  her  own  life  was  more 
intrinsically  valuable  to  the  world  than  his,  and  that  of 
the  two  it  was  best  that  he  should  be  taken.  She  was 
sad,  sore  against  Providence,  and  uncertain  as  to  the 
future.  But  she  was  keenly  conscious  that  she  had  a 
future,  and  she  was  eager  to  be  stirring.  Still,  for  the 
moment,  the  outlook  was  perplexing.  What  was  she  to 
do  ?  First,  and  certainly,  she  desired  to  shake  the  dust 
of  New  York  from  her  feet  at  the  earliest  opportunity. 
She  inclined  toward  Benham  as  a  residence,  and  to  the 
lecture  platform,  supplemented  by  literature,  and  per- 
haps eventually  the  stage,  as  a  means  of  livelihood.  She 
believed  in  her  secret  soul  that  she  could  act.  Her  sup- 
posed facility  in  acquiring  the  New  York  manner  had 
helped  to  generate  that  impression.  It  seemed  to  her 
more  than  probable  that  with  a  little  instruction  as  to 
technical  stage  business  she  could  gain  fame  and  fortune 
almost  at  once  as  an  actress  of  tragedy  or  melodrama. 
Comedy  she  despised  as  unworthy  of  her.  But  the  stage 
appealed  to  her  only  on  the  ground  of  income.  The 
life  of  an  actress  lacked  the  ethical  character  which  she 
liked  to  associate  with  whatever  she  did.  To  be  sure,  a 
great  actress  was  an  inspiring  influence.  Nevertheless 
she  preferred  some  more  obviously  improving  occupa- 
tion, provided  it  would  afford  a  suitable  support.  Yet 
was  it  fitting  that  she  should  be  condemned  to  do  hack 
work  for  her  daily  bread  instead  of  something  to  en- 
lighten and  uplift  the  community  in  which  she  lived  ? 
She  considered  that  she  had  served  her  apprenticeship  by 
teaching  school  and  writing  for  the  newspapers,  and  she 
265 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

begrudged  spending  further  time  in  subordinate  work. 
Better  on  the  whole  a  striking  success  on  the  stage  than 
this,  for  after  she  had  made  a  name  and  money  she 
could  retire  and  devote  herself  to  more  congenial  under- 
takings. Nevertheless  her  conscience  told  her  that  a 
theatrical  career  must  be  regarded  as  a  last  resort,  and 
she  appreciated  the  importance  of  not  making  a  hasty 
decision  as  to  what  she  would  do.  The  lease  of  her 
house  would  not  expire  for  six  months,  and  it  seemed  to 
her  probable  that  even  in  New  York,  where  she  was  not 
understood,  someone  would  realize  her  value  as  a  man- 
ager of  some  intellectual  or  literary  movement  and  make 
overtures  to  her.  She  wrote  to  Mrs.  Earle  and  received 
a  cordial  response  declaring  that  Benham  would  welcome 
her  with  open  arms,  a  complimentary  though  somewhat 
vague  certificate.  She  sent  a  line  also  to  Mr.  Dennison, 
informing  him  that  she  hoped  soon  to  submit  some  short 
stories  for  his  magazine,  and  received  a  guarded  but 
polite  reply  to  the  effect  that  he  would  be  glad  to  read 
her  manuscripts. 

While  she  was  thus  deliberating  and  winding  up  her 
husband's  affairs,  Mr.  Parsons,  who  had  been  absent 
from  New  York  at  the  time  of  Wilbur's  decease,  called 
and  bluntly  made  the  announcement  that  he  had  bought 
a  house  in  Benham,  was  to  move  there  immediately,  and 
was  desirous  that  she  should  live  with  him  as  his  com- 
panion and  housekeeper  on  liberal  pecuniary  terms. 

"I  am  an  old  man,"  he  said,  "and  my  health  is  not 
what  it  used  to  be.  I  need  someone  to  look  after  me 
and  to  keep  me  company.  I  like  your  chatty  ways,  and, 
if  I  have  someone  smart  and  brisk  around  like  you,  I 
sha'n't  be  thinking  so  often  that  Pm  all  alone  in  the 
world.  It'll  be  dull  for  you,  I  guess ;  but  vou'll  b#» 
266 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

keeping  quiet  for  the  present  wherever  you  are ;  and 
when  the  time  comes  that  you  wish  to  take  notice  again 
I  won't  stand  in  the  way  of  your  amusing  yourself. 

To  this  homely  plea  Selma  returned  a  beatific  smile. 
It  struck  her  as  an  ideal  arrangment ;  a  golden  oppor- 
tunity for  him,  and  convenient  and  promising  for  her. 
In  the  first  place  she  was  accorded  the  mission  of  cheer- 
ing and  guarding  the  declining  years  of  this  fine  old 
man,  whom  she  had  come  to  look  on  with  esteem  and 
liking.  And  at  the  same  time  as  his  companion — the 
virtual  mistress  of  his  house,  for  she  knew  perfectly 
well  that  as  a  genuine  American  he  was  not  offering  her  a 
position  less  than  this — she  would  be  able  to  shape  her 
life  gradually  along  congenial  lines,  and  to  wait  for  the 
ripe  occasion  for  usefulness  to  present  itself.  In  an 
instant  a  great  load  was  lifted  from  her  spirit.  She  was 
thankful  to  be  spared  conscientious  qualms  concerning 
the  career  of  an  actress,  and  thankful  to  be  freed  at  one 
bound  from  her  New  York  associations — especially  with 
Pauline,  whose  attitude  toward  her  had  been  further 
strained  by  her  continued  conviction  that  Wilbur's  life 
might  have  been  saved.  Indeed,  so  completely  alleviat- 
ing was  Mr.  Parsons's  proposition  that,  stimulated  by 
the  thought  that  he  was  to  be  a  greater  gainer  from  the 
plan  than  she,  Selma  gave  rein  to  her  emotions  by  ex- 
claiming with  fervor : 

"  Usually  I  like  to  think  important  plans  over  before 
coming  to  a  decision  ;  but  this  arrangement  seems  to  me 
so  sensible  and  natural  and  mutually  advantageous,  Mr. 
Parsons,  that  I  see  no  reason  why  I  shouldn't  accept 
your  offer  now.  God  grant  that  I  may  be  a  worthy 
daughter  to  you — and  in  some  measure  take  the  place  of 
the  dear  ones  you  have  lost." 
267 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"  That's  what  I  want/'  he  said.  "  I  took  a  liking  to 
yon  the  first  time  we  met.  Then  it's  settled  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  suppose,"  she  added,  after  a  moment's  hesi- 
tation— speaking  with  an  accent  of  scorn — "  I  suppose 
there  may  be  people — people  like  those  who  are  called 
fashionable  here — who  will  criticise  the  arrangement  on 
the  ground — er — of  propriety,  because  I'm  not  a  rela- 
tion, and  you  are  not  very  old.  But  I  despise  conven- 
tions such  as  that.  They  may  be  necessary  for  foreign- 
ers ;  but  they  are  not  meant  for  self-respecting  American 
women.  I  fancy  my  sister-in-law  may  not  wholly 
approve  of  it,  but  I  don't  know.  I  shall  take  pleasure 
in  showing  her  and  the  rest  that  it  would  be  wicked  as 
well  as  foolish  to  let  a  flimsy  suggestion  of  evil  interfere 
with  the  happiness  of  two  people  situated  as  we  are." 

Mr.  Parsons  seemed  puzzled  at  first,  as  though  he  did 
not  understand  exactly  what  she  meant,  but  when  she 
concluded  he  said  : 

"  You  come  to  me,  as  yon  have  yourself  stated,  on 
the  footing  of  a  daughter.  If  folk  are  not  content  to 
mind  their  own  business,  I  guess  we  needn't  worry  be- 
cause they  don't  happen  to  be  suited.  There's  one  or 
two  relations  of  mine  would  be  glad  to  be  in  your  shoes, 
but  I  don't  know  of  anything  in  the  Bible  or  the  Con- 
stitution of  the  United  States  which  forbids  an  old  man 
from  choosing  the  face  hell  have  opposite  to  him  at 
table." 

"  Or  forbids  the  interchange  of  true  sympathy — that 
priceless  privilege,"  answered  Selma,  her  liking  for  a 
sententious  speech  rising  paramount  even  to  the  pleas- 
ure caused  her  by  the  allusion  to  her  personal  appear- 
ance. Nevertheless  it  was  agreeable  to  be  preferred  to 
his  female  cousins  on  the  score  of  comeliness. 
268 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Accordingly,  within  six  months  of  her  husband's 
death,  the  transition  to  Benham  was  accomplished,  and 
Selma  was  able  to  encounter  the  metaphorically  open 
arms,  referred  to  by  Mrs.  Earle,  without  feeling  that 
she  was  a  less  important  person  than  when  she  had  been 
whisked  off  as  a  bride  by  Littleton,  the  rising  architect. 
She  was  returning  as  the  confidential,  protecting  com- 
panion of  a  successful,  self-made  old  man^  who  was 
relying  on  her  to  make  his  new  establishment  a  pleasure 
to  himself  and  a  credit  to  the  wide-awake  city  in  which 
he  had  elected  to  pass  his  remaining  days.  She  was 
returning  to  a  house  on  the  River  Drive  (the  aristocratic 
boulevard  of  Benham,  where  the  river  Nye  makes  a 
broad  sweep  to  the  south);  a  house  not  far  distant  from 
the  Flagg  mansion  at  which,  as  Mrs.  Lewis  Babcock,  she 
had  looked  askance  as  a  monument  inimical  to  demo- 
cratic simplicity.  Wilbur  had  taught  her  that  it  was 
very  ugly,  and  now  that  she  saw  it  again  after  a  lapse  of 
years  she  was  pleased  to  note  that  her  new  residence, 
though  slightly  smaller,  had  a  more  modern  and  dis- 
tinguished air. 

The  new  house  was  of  rough-hewn  red  sandstone, 
combining  solid  dignity  and  some  artistic  merit,  for 
Benham  had  not  stood  still  architecturally  speaking. 
The  River  Drive  was  a  grotesque,  yet  on  the  whole 
encouraging  exhibit.  Most  of  the  residences  had  been 
designed  by  native  talent,  but  under  the  spur  of  experi- 
ment even  the  plain,  hard-headed  builders  had  been 
constrained  to  dub  themselves  "  architects,"  and  adopt 
modern  methods  ;  and  here  and  there  stood  evidences 
that  the  seed  planted  by  Mrs.  Hallett  Taylor  and  Little- 
ton had  borne  fruit,  for  Benham  possessed  at  least  half 
a  dozen  private  houses  which  could  defy  criticism. 
269 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Trie  one  selected  by  Mr.  Parsons  was  not  of  these  half 
dozen  ;  but  the  plain,  hard-headed  builder  who  had 
erected  it  for  the  original  owner  was  shrewd  and  imi- 
tative, and  had  avoided  ambitious  deviations  from  the 
type  he  wished  to  copy — the  red  sandstone,  swell  front 
variety,  which  ten  years  before  would  have  seemed  to 
the  moral  sense  of  Benham  unduly  cheerful.  Mr.  Par- 
sons was  so  fortunate  as  to  be  able  to  buy  it  just  after  it 
had  been  completed,  together  with  a  stable  and  half  an 
acre  of  ground,  from  one  of  the  few  Benhamites  whose 
financial  ventures  had  ended  in  disaster,  and  who  was 
obliged  to  sell.  It  was  a  more  ambitious  residence  than 
Mr.  Parsons  had  desired,  but  it  was  the  most  available, 
inasmuch  as  he  could  occupy  it  at  once.  It  had  been 
painted  and  decorated  within,  but  was  unfurnished. 
Mr.  Parsons,  as  a  practical  business  man,  engaged  the 
builder  to  select  and  supply  the  bedroom  and  solid  fit- 
tings, but  it  occurred  to  him  to  invite  Selma  to  choose 
the  furnishings  for  what  he  called  the  show  rooms. 

Selma  was  delighted  to  visit  once  more  the  New  York 
stores,  free  from  the  bridle  of  Wilbur's  criticism  and 
unrestrained  by  economy.  She  found  to  her  satisfac- 
tion that  the  internal  decoration  of  the  new  house  was 
not  unlike  that  of  the  Williamses'  first  habitation — that 
is,  gay  and  bedizened  ;  and  she  was  resolved  in  the  selec- 
tion of  her  draperies  and  ornaments  to  buy  things  which 
suggested  by  their  looks  that  they  were  handsome,  and 
whose  claim  to  distinction  was  not  mere  sober  unobtru- 
siveness.  She  realized  that  some  of  her  purchases  would 
have  made  Wilbur  squirm,  but  since  his  death  she  felt 
more  sure  than  ever  that  even  where  art  was  concerned 
his  taste  was  subdued,  timid,  and  unimaginative.  For 
instance,  she  believed  that  he  would  not  have  approved 
270 


UNLEAVENED  BKEAD 

her  choice  of  light-blue  satin  for  the  upholstery  of  the 
drawing-room,  nor  of  a  marble  statue — an  allegorical 
figure  of  Truth,  duly  draped,  as  its  most  conspicuous 
ornament. 

Selma  was  spared  the  embarrassment  of  her  first  hus- 
band's presence.  Divorce  is  no  bar  to  ordinary  femi- 
nine curiosity  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  a  former  partner 
for  life,  and  she  had  proved  no  exception  to  the  rule. 
Mrs.  Earle  had  kept  her  posted  as  to  Babcock's  career 
since  their  separation,  and  what  she  learned  had  tended 
merely  to  demonstrate  the  wisdom  and  justice  of  her 
action.  As  a  divorced  man  he  had,  after  a  time,  re- 
sumed the  free  and  easy,  coarse  companionship  to  which 
he  had  been  partial  before  his  marriage,  and  had  gradu- 
ally become  a  heavy  drinker.  Presently  he  had  neglected 
his  business,  a  misfortune  of  which  a  rival  concern  had 
been  quick  to  take  advantage.  The  trend  of  his  affairs 
had  been  steadily  downhill,  and  had  come  to  a  crisis 
three  months  before  Littleton's  death,  when,  in  order  to 
avoid  insolvency,  he  sold  out  his  factory  and  business  to 
the  rival  company,  and  accepted  at  the  same  hands  the 
position  of  manager  in  a  branch  office  in  a  city  further 
west.  Consequently,  Selma  could  feel  free  from  mo- 
lestation or  an  appeal  to  her  sensibilities.  She  preferred 
to  think  of  Babcock  as  completely  outside  her  life,  as 
dead  to  her,  and  she  would  have  disliked  the  possibility 
of  meeting  him  in  the  flesh  while  shopping  on  Central 
avenue.  It  had  been  the  only  drawback  to  her  proposed 
return  to  Benham. 

During  the  years  of  Selma's  second  marriage  Benham 
had  waxed  rapidly  in  population  and  importance.  Peo- 
ple had  been  attracted  thither  by  the  varied  industries 
of  the  city — alike  those  in  search  of  fortune,  and  those 
271 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

offering  themselves  for  employment  in  the  mills,  oil- 
works,  and  pork  factories ;  and  at  the  date  of  Littleton's 
death  it  boasted  over  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
inhabitants.  It  was  already  the  second  city  of  the  State 
in  point  of  population,  and  was  freely  acknowledged  to 
be  the  most  wide-awake  and  enterprising.  The  civic 
spirit  of  Benham  was  reputed  to  be  constantly  and  in- 
creasingly alert  and  progressive,  notwithstanding  the 
river  Xye  still  ran  the  color  of  bean-soup  above  where  it 
was  drawn  for  drinking  purposes,  and  the  ability  of  a 
plumber,  who  had  become  an  alderman,  to  provide  a 
statue  or  lay  out  a  public  park  was  still  unquestioned  by 
the  majority.  Even  to-day,  when  trained  ability  has 
obtained  recognition  in  many  quarters,  the  Benhamites 
at  large  are  apt  to  resent  criticism  as  aristocratic  fault- 
finding ;  yet  at  this  time  that  saving  minority  of  souls 
who  refused  to  regard  everything  which  Benham  did 
as  perfection,  and  whose  subsequent  forlorn  hopes  and 
desperately  won  victories  have  little  by  little  taught  the 
community  wisdom,  if  not  modesty,  was  beginning  to 
utter  disagreeable  strictures. 

Mrs.  Margaret  Rodney  Earle,  when  she  opened  her 
arms  to  Selma  and  folded  her  to  her  bosom  with  a  hug 
of  welcome,  was  raging  inwardly  against  this  minority, 
and  they  had  not  been  many  minutes  together  before 
she  gave  utterance  to  her  grievance. 

"  You  have  come  just  in  time  to  give  us  your  sympa- 
thy and  support  in  an  important  matter,  my  dear.  Miss 
Bailey  has  been  nominated  for  the  School  Board  at  the 
instance  of  the  Executive  Committee  of  the  Benham 
Institute.  We  supposed  that  she  would  have  plain  sail- 
ing, for  many  of  the  voters  have  begun  to  recognize  the 
jwtfoe  of  having  one  or  two  women  on  the  School  Board, 
272 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

and  by  hard  work  we  had  succeeded  in  getting  her  name 
put  on  the  Democratic  ticket.  Judge,  then,  of  our 
feelings  when  we  learned  that  the  Reform  Club  had  de- 
cided to  blacklist  and  refuse  to  support  at  the  polls 
three  of  the  six  names  on  the  ticket,  including  our  Lu- 
ella  Bailey,  on  the  ground  of  lack  of  experience  in  edu- 
cational matters.  The  Reform  Club  has  nominated 
three  other  persons — one  of  them  a  woman.  And  who 
do  you  suppose  is  the  head  and  front  of  this  unholy 
crusade  ?  " 

"  It  sounds  like  Mrs.  Hallett  Taylor/'  answered  Selma, 
sternly. 

"  How  did  you  know  ?  What  made  you  think  so  ? 
How  clever  of  you,  Selma !  Yes,  she  is  the  active  spirit." 

"  It  was  she  who  was  at  the  bottom  of  Miss  Bailey's 
rejection  when  she  was  my  candidate  for  a  position  at 
Everdean  College.** 

"To  be  sure.  I  remember.  This  Reform  Club, 
which  was  started  a  year  or  so  ago,  and  which  sets  itself 
up  as  a  censor  of  what  we  are  trying  to  do  in  Benham, 
has  nominated  a  Miss  Snow,  who  is  said  to  have  travelled 
abroad  studying  the  school  systems  of  Europe/' 

"  As  if  that  would  help  us  in  any  way." 

"  Precisely.  She  has  probably  come  home  with  her 
head  full  of  queer-f angled  notions  which  would  be  out 
of  keeping  with  our  institutions.  Just  the  reason  why 
she  shouldn't  be  chosen.  We  are  greatly  troubled  as  to 
the  result,  dear,  for  though  we  expect  to  win,  the  preju- 
dice of  some  men  against  voting  for  a  woman  under  any 
circumstances  will  operate  against  our  candidate,  so  that 
this  action  of  the  Reform  Club  may  possibly  be  the 
means  of  electing  one  of  the  men  on  the  Republican 
ticket  instead  of  Luella.  Miss  Snow  hasn't  the  ghost  of 
273 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

a  chance.  But  that  isn't  all.  These  Reform  Club  nomi- 
nations are  preliminary  to  a  bill  before  the  Legislature 
to  take  away  from  the  people  the  right  to  elect  members 
of  the  school  committee,  and  substitute  an  appointive 
board  of  specialists  to  serve  during  long  terms  of  good 
behavior.  As  Mr.  Lyons  says,  that's  the  real  issue 
involved.  It's  quixotic  and  it  isn't  necessary.  Haven't 
we  always  prided  ourselves  on  our  ability  to  keep  our 
public  schools  the  best  in  the  world  ?  And  is  there  any 
doubt,  Selma,  that  either  you  or  I  would  be  fully  quali- 
fied to  serve  on  the  School  Board  though  we  haven't  made 
any  special  study  of  primers  and  geographies  ?  Luella 
Bailey  hasn't  had  any  special  training,  but  she's  smart 
and  progressive,  and  the  poor  thing  would  like  the 
recognition.  We  fixed  on  her  because  we  thought  it 
would  help  her  to  get  ahead,  for  she  has  not  been  lucky 
in  obtaining  suitable  employment.  As  Mr.  Lyons  says, 
a  serious  principle  is  involved.  He  has  come  out  strong 
against  the  movement  and  declares  that  it  is  a  direct 
menace  to  the  intelligence  of  the  plain  people  of  the 
United  States  and  a  subtle  invasion  of  their  liberties." 
"  Mr.  Lyons  ?  What  Mr.  Lyons  is  that  ?  " 
"  Yes,  dear,  it  is  the  same  one  who  managed  your 
affair.  Your  Mr.  Lyons.  He  has  become  an  important 
man  since  you  left  Benham.  He  speaks  delightfully, 
ind  is  likely  to  receive  the  next  Democratic  nomination 
for  Congress.  He  is  in  accord  with  all  liberal  move- 
ments, and  a  foe  of  everything  exclusive,  unchristian  or 
arbitrary.  He  has  declared  his  intention  to  oppose  the 
bill  when  it  is  introduced,  and  I  shall  devote  myself 
body  and  soul  to  working  against  it  in  case  Luella 
Bailey  is  defeated.  It  is  awkward  because  Mrs.  Taylor 
is  a  member  of  the  Institute,  though  she  doesn't  often 


UNLEAVENED  BKEAD 

come,  and  the  club  has  never  been  in  politics.  But 
here  when  there  was  a  chance  to  do  Luella  Bailey  a  good 
turn,  and  I'd  been  able  through  some  of  my  newspaper 
friends  to  get  her  on  the  ticket,  it  seems  to  me  positively 
unchristian — yes,  that's  the  word — to  try  to  keep  her 
off  tho  board.  There  are  some  things  of  course,  Luella 
couldn't  do — and  if  the  position  were  superintendent  of  a 
hospital,  for  instance,  I  dare  say  that  special  training 
would  be  advantageous,  though  nursing  can  be  picked  up 
very  rapidly  by  a  keen  intelligence  :  but  to  raise  such  ob- 
jections in  regard  to  a  candidate  for  the  School  Board 
seems  to  me  ridiculous  as  well  as  cruel.  What  we  need 
there  are  open,  receptive  minds,  free  from  fads  and  preju- 
dice— wide-awake,  progressive  enthusiastic  intellects.  It 
worries  me  to  see  the  Institute  dragged  into  politics,  but 
it  is  my  duty  to  resist  this  undemocratic  movement." 

"  Surely,"  exclaimed  Selma,  with  fire.  "  I  am  thank- 
ful I  have  come  in  time  to  help  you.  I  understand 
exactly.  I  have  been  passing  through  just  such  expe- 
riences in  New  York — encountering  and  being  rebuffed 
by  just  such  people  as  those  who  belong  to  this  Reform 
Club.  My  husband  was  beginning  to  see  through  them 
and  to  recognize  that  we  were  both  tied  hand  and  foot 
by  their  narrowness  and  lack  of  enthusiasm  when  he 
died.  If  he  had  lived,  we  would  have  moved  to  Benham 
shortly  in  order  to  escape  from  bondage.  And  one  thing 
is  certain,  dear  Mrs.  Earle,"  she  continued  with  inten- 
sity, "  we  must  not  permit  this  carping  spirit  of  hostility 
to  original  and  spontaneous  effort  to  get  a  foothold  in 
Benham.  "We  must  crush  it,  we  must  stamp  it  out." 

"  Amen,  my  dear.  I  am  delighted  to  hear  you  talk 
like  that.  I  declare  you  would  be  very  effective  in 
public  if  you  were  roused." 

275 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"  Yes,  I  am  roused,  and  I  am  willing  to  speak  in 
public  if  it  becomes  necessary  in  order  to  keep  Benham 
nncontaminated  by  the  insidious  canker  of  exclusiveness 
and  the  distrust  of  aspiring  souls  which  a  few  narrow 
minds  choose  to  term  untrained.  Am  /  untrained  ? 
Am  /  superficial  and  common  ?  Do  /  lack  the  appear- 
ance and  behavior  of  a  lady  ?  " 

Selma  accompanied  these  interrogatories  with  succes- 
sive waves  of  the  hand,  as  though  she  were  branding  so 
many  falsehoods. 

"Assuredly  not,  Selma.  I  consider  you  " — and  here 
Mrs.  Earle  gasped  in  the  process  of  choosing  her  words 
—"I  consider  yon  one  of  our  best  trained  and  most 
independent  minds — cultured,  a  friend  of  culture,  and 
an  earnest  seeker  after  truth.  If  you  are  not  a  lady, 
neither  am  I,  neither  is  anyone  in  Benham.  Why  do 
you  ask,  dear  ?  "  And  without  waiting  for  an  answer, 
Mrs.  Earle  added  with  a  touch  of  material  wisdom, 
"You  return  to  Benham  under  satisfactory,  I  might 
say,  brilliant  auspices.  You  will  be  the  active  spirit  in 
this  fine  house,  and  be  in  a  position  to  promote  worthy 
intellectual  and  moral  movements/' 

"  Thank  heavens,  yes.  And  to  combat  those  which 
are  unworthy  and  dangerous,"  exclaimed  Selma,  clasping 
her  fingers,  "I  can  count  on  the  support  of  Mr.  Parsons, 
God  bless  him  !  And  it  would  seem  at  last  as  if  I  had 
a  real  chance — a  real  chance  at  last.  Mrs.  Earle — Cora 
— I  know  you  can  keep  a  secret.  I  feel  almost  as  though 
you  were  my  mother,  for  there  is  no  one  else  now  to 
whom  I  can  talk  like  this.  I  have  not  been  happy  in 
New  York.  I  thought  I  was  happy  at  first,  but  lately 
we  have  been  miserable.  My  marriage — er— they  drove 
my  husband  to  the  wall,  and  killed  him.  He  was  sensi- 
276 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

tive  and  noble,  but  not  practical,  and  he  fell  a  victim  to 
the  mercenary  despotism  of  our  surroundings.  When  I 
tried  to  help  him  they  became  jealous  of  me,  and  shut 
their  doors  in  our  faces." 

"  You  poor,  poor  child.  I  have  suspected  for  some 
time  that  something  was  wrong. '' 

"It  nearly  killed  me.  But  now,  thank  heaven,  I 
breathe  freely  once  more.  I  have  lost  my  dear  husband, 
but  I  have  escaped  from  that  prison-house ;  and  with 
his  memory  to  keep  me  merciless,  I  am  eager  to  wage 
war  against  those  influences  which  are  conspiring  to 
fetter  the  free-born  soul  and  stifle  spontaneity.  Luella 
Bailey  must  be  elected,  and  these  people  be  taught  that 
foreign  ideas  may  flourish  in  New  York,  but  cannot 
obtain  root  in  Benham." 

Mrs.  Earle  wiped  her  eyes,  which  were  running  over 
as  the  result  of  this  combination  of  confidence  and  elo- 
quence. 

"  If  you  don't  mind  my  saying  so,  Selma,  I  never  saw 
anyone  so  much  improved  as  you.  You  always  had 
ideas,  and  were  well  equipped,  but  now  you  speak  as 
though  you  could  remove  mountains  if  necessary.  It's 
a  blessing  for  us  as  well  as  you  that  you're  back  among 
us  once  more." 


CHAPTER  II. 

WHEN  Selma  uttered  her  edict  that  Lnella  Bailey 
mnst  be  elected  she  did  not  know  that  the  election  was 
only  three  days  off.  When  she  was  told  this  by  Mrs. 
Earle,  she  cast  about  feverishly  during  a  few  hours  for 
the  means  to  compass  certain  victory,  then  promptly 
and  sensibly  disclaimed  responsibility  for  the  result, 
suggesting  even  that  her  first  appearance  as  a  remover 
of  mountains  be  deferred  to  the  time  when  the  bill 
should  be  before  the  Legislature.  As  she  aptly  explained 
to  Mrs.  Earle,  the  canvass  was  virtually  at  an  end,  she 
was  unacquainted  with  the  practical  features  of  the  situ- 
ation, and  was  to  all  intents  a  stranger  in  Benham  after 
so  long  an  absence.  Mrs.  Earle  was  unable  to  combat 
the  logic  of  these  representations,  but  she  obtained  from 
Selma  a  ready  promise  to  accompany  the  Benham  Insti- 
tute to  the  final  rally  on  the  evening  before  election  day 
and  sit  in  a  prominent  place  on  the  platform.  The 
Institute  was  to  attend  as  a  body  by  way  of  promoting 
the  cause  of  its  candidate,  for  though  the  meeting  was 
called  in  aid  of  the  entire  Democratic  municipal  ticket, 
Hon.  James  0.  Lyons,  the  leading  orator  of  the  occasion, 
had  promised  to  devote  special  attention  to  Miss  Bailey, 
whose  election,  owing  to  the  attitude  of  the  Reform 
Club,  was  recognized  as  in  doubt.  Selma  also  agreed  to 
accompany  Mrs.  Earle  in  a  hack  on  the  day  itself,  and 
career  through  the  city  in  search  of  recalcitrant  or  in- 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

different  female  voters,  for  the  recently  acqnired  right 
of  Benham  women  to  vote  for  members  of  the  School 
Board  had  not  as  yet  been  exercised  by  any  considerable 
number  of  the  emancipated  sex. 

As  a  part  of  the  programme  of  the  meeting  the  Ben- 
ham  Institute,  or  the  major  portion  of  it  (for  there  were 
a  few  who  sympathized  openly  with  Mrs.  Taylor),  filed 
showily  on  to  the  platform  headed  by  Mrs.  Earle,  who 
waved  her  pocket  handkerchief  at  the  audience,  which 
was  the  occasion  for  renewed  hand-clapping  and  enthusi- 
asm. Selma  walked  not  far  behind  and  took  her  seat 
among  the  forty  other  members,  who  all  wore  white  silk 
badges  stamped  in  red  with  the  sentiment  "  A  vote  for 
Luella  Bailey  is  a  vote  for  the  liberty  of  the  people." 
Her  pulses  were  throbbing  with  interest  and  pleasure. 
This  was  the  sort  of  thing  she  delighted  in,  and  which 
she  had  hoped  would  be  a  frequent  incident  of  her  life 
in  New  York.  It  pleased  her  to  think  how  naturally 
and  easily  she  had  taken  her  place  in  the  ranks  of  these 
earnest,  enthusiastic  workers,  and  that  she  had  merely 
to  express  a  wish  in  order  to  have  leadership  urged 
upon  her.  Matters  had  shaped  themselves  exactly  as 
she  desired.  Mr.  Parsons  not  only  treated  her  complete- 
ly as  an  equal,  but  consulted  her  in  regard  to  everything. 
He  had  already  become  obviously  dependent  on  her,  and 
had  begun  to  develop  the  tendencies  of  an  invalid. 

The  exercises  were  of  a  partisan  cast.  The  theory 
that  municipal  government  should  be  independent  of 
party  politics  had  been  an  adage  in  Benham  since  its 
foundation,  and  been  disregarded  annually  by  nine- 
tenths  of  the  population  ever  since.  This  was  a  Demo- 
cratic love-feast.  The  speakers  and  the  audience  alike 
were  in  the  best  of  spirits,  for  there  was  no  uncertainty 
279 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

in  the  minds  of  the  party  prophets  as  to  the  result  of 
the  morrow's  ballot — excepting  with  regard  to  Miss 
Bailey.  The  rest  of  the  ticket  would  unquestionably  be 
elected ;  accordingly  all  hands  and  voices  were  free  to 
focus  their  energies  in  her  behalf  and  thus  make  the 
victory  a  clean  sweep.  Nevertheless  the  earlier  speakers 
felt  obliged  to  let  their  eloquence  flow  over  the  whole 
range  of  political  misgovernment  from  the  White  House 
and  the  national  platform  down,  although  the  actual 
issue  was  the  choice  of  a  mayor,  twelve  aldermen  and  a 
school  committee,  so  that  only  casual  reference  was 
made  to  the  single  weak  spot  on  the  ticket  until  the 
Hon.  James  0.  Lyons  rose  to  address  the  meeting.  The 
reception  accorded  him  was  more  spontaneous  and 
effusive  than  that  which  had  been  bestowed  on  either  of 
his  predecessors,  and  as  he  stood  waiting  with  dignified 
urbanity  for  the  applause  to  subside,  some  rapturous 
admirer  called  for  three  cheers,  and  the  tumult  was 
renewed. 

Selma  was  thrilled.  Her  acquaintance  with  Mr. 
Lyons  naturally  heightened  her  interest,  and  she 
observed  him  eagerly.  Time  had  added  to  his  corporeal 
weight  since  he  had  acted  as  her  counsel,  and  enhanced 
the  sober  yet  genial  decorum  of  his  bearing.  His 
slightly  pontifical  air  seemed  an  assurance  against  ill- 
timed  levity.  His  cheeks  were  still  fat  and  smooth 
shaven,  but,  like  many  of  the  successful  men  of  Benham, 
he  now  wore  a  chin  beard — a  thick  tuft  of  hair  which  in 
his  case  tapered  so  that  it  bore  some  resemblance  to  the 
beard  of  a  goat,  and  gave  a  rough-and-ready  aspect  to 
his  appearance  suggestive  alike  of  smart,  solid  worth 
and  an  absence  of  dandified  tendencies.  Mr.  Parsons 
had  a  thicker  beard  of  the  same  character,  which 
280 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Selma  regarded  with  favor  as  a  badge  of  serious  inten- 
tions. 

"  My  friends,"  he  began  when  the  applause  had  sub- 
sided ;  then  paused  and  surveyed  his  audience  in  a  man- 
ner which  left  them  in  doubt  as  to  whether  he  was  strug- 
gling with  emotion  or  busy  in  silent  prayer.  "My 
friends,  a  month  ago  to-day  the  citizens  of  Benham 
assembled  to  crown  with  appropriate  and  beautiful  ser- 
vices the  monument  which  they,  the  survivors,  have 
erected  with  pious  hands  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of 
those  who  laid  down  their  lives  to  keep  intact  our  be- 
loved union  of  States  and  to  banish  slavery  forever  from 
the  confines  of  our  aspiring  civilization.  A  week  ago 
an  equally  representative  assembly,  without  regard  to 
creed  or  party,  listened  to  the  exercises  attending  the 
dedication  of  the  new  Court  House  which  we  have 
raised  to  Justice — that  white-robed  goddess,  the  guar- 
dian of  the  liberties  of  the  people.  Each  was  a  notable 
and  significant  event.  On  each  occasion  I  had  the  honor 
to  say  a  few  poor  words.  We  celebrated  with  bowed 
heads  and  with  garlands  the  deeds  of  the  heroic  dead, 
and  now  have  consecrated  ourselves  to  the  opportunities 
and  possibilities  of  peace  under  the  law — to  the  revelation 
of  the  temper  of  our  new  civilization  which,  tried  in 
the  furnace  of  war,  is  to  be  a  grand  and  vital  power  for 
the  advancement  of  the  human  race,  for  the  righteous 
furtherance  of  the  brotherhood  of  man.  What  is  the 
hope  of  the  world?"  he  asked.  "America — these 
United  States,  a  bulwark  against  tyranny,  an  asylum 
for  the  aspiring  and  the  downtrodden.  The  eyes  of  the 
nations  are  upon  us.  In  the  souls  of  the  survivors  and 
of  the  sons  and  daughters  of  the  patriots  who  have  died 
in  defence  of  the  liberties  of  our  beloved  country  abide 
281 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

the  seed  and  inspiration  for  new  victories  of  peace.  Our 
privilege  be  it  as  the  heirs  of  Washington  and  Franklin 
and  Hamilton  and  Lincoln  and  Grant  to  set  the  nations 
of  the  earth  an  example  of  what  peace  under  the  law 
may  accomplish,  so  that  the  free-bora  son  of  America 
from  the  shores  of  Cape  Cod  to  the  western  limits  of  the 
Golden  Gate  may  remain  a  synonym  for  noble  aims  and 
noble  deeds,  for  truth  and  patriotism  and  fearlessness 
of  soul." 

The  speaker's  words  had  been  uttered  slowly  at  the 
outset — ponderous,  sonorous,  sentence  by  sentence,  like 
the  big  drops  before  a  heavy  shower.  As  he  warmed  to 
his  theme  the  pauses  ceased,  and  his  speech  flowed  with 
the  musical  sweep  of  a  master  of  platform  oratory. 
When  he  spoke  of  war  his  voice  choked  ;  in  speaking  of 
peace  he  paused  for  an  appreciable  moment,  casting  his 
eyes  up  as  though  he  could  discern  the  angel  of  national 
tranquillity  hovering  overhead.  Although  this  opening 
peroration  seemed  scarcely  germane  to  the  occasion,  the 
audience  listened  in  absorbed  silence,  spell-bound  by  the 
magnetism  of  his  delivery.  They  felt  sure  that  he  had 
a  point  in  reserve  to  which  these  splendid  and  agree- 
able truths  were  a  pertinent  introduction. 

Proceeding  with  his  address,  Mr.  Lyons  made  a 
panegyric  on  these  United  States  of  America,  from  the 
special  standpoint  of  their  dedication  to  the  "  God  of 
our  fathers/'  a  solemn  figure  of  speech.  The  sincerity 
of  his  patriotism  was  emphasized  by  the  religious  fervor 
of  his  deduction  that  God  was  on  the  side  of  the  nation, 
and  the  nation  on  the  side  of  God.  Though  he  ab- 
stained from  direct  strictures,  both  his  manner  and  his 
matter  seemed  to  serve  a  caveat,  so  to  speak,  on  the 
other  nations  by  declaring  that  for  fineness  of  heart  and 
282 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

thought,  and  deed,  the  world  must  look  to  the  land 
"  whose  wide  and  well-nigh  boundless  prairies  were 
blossoming  with  the  buds  of  truth  fanned  by  the  breeze 
of  liberty  and  fertilized  by  the  aspirations  of  a  God- 
fearing and  a  God-led  population.  What  is  the  hope 
of  the  world,  I  repeat? "he  continued.  "The  plain 
and  sovereign  people  of  our  beloved  country.  Whatever 
menaces  their  liberties,  whatever  detracts  from  their 
power  and  infringes  on  their  prerogatives  is  a  peril  to 
our  institutions  and  a  step  backward  in  the  science  of 
government.  My  friends,  we  are  here  to-night  to  pro- 
test against  a  purpose  to  invade  those  liberties — a  de- 
liberately conceived  design  to  take  away  from  the 
sovereign  people  of  this  city  one  of  their  cherished 
privileges — the  right  to  decide  who  shall  direct  the 
policy  of  our  free  public-school  system,  that  priceless 
heritage  of  every  American.  I  beg  to  remind  you  that 
this  contest  is  no  mere  question  of  healthy  rivalry  be- 
tween two  great  political  parties  ;  nor  again  is  it  only  a 
vigorous  competition  between  two  ambitious  and  intelli- 
gent women.  A  ballot  in  behalf  of  our  candidate  will 
be  a  vote  of  confidence  in  the  ability  of  the  plain  people 
of  this  country  to  adopt  the  best  educational  methods 
without  the  patronizing  dictation  of  a  board  of  special- 
ists nurtured  on  foreign  and  uninspiring  theories  of 
instruction.  A  ballot  against  Miss  Luella  Bailey,  the 
competent  and  cultivated  lady  whose  name  adds 
strength  and  distinction  to  our  ticket,  and  who  has 
been  needlessly  and  wantonly  opposed  by  those  who 
should  be  her  proud  friends,  will  signify  a  willingness 
to  renounce  one  of  our  most  precious  liberties — the  free 
man's  right  to  choose  those  who  are  to  impart  to  his 
children  mastery  of  knowledge  and  love  of  country.  I 
283 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

take  my  stand  to-night  as  the  resolute  enemy  of  this 
aristocratic  and  un-American  suggestion,  and  urge  you, 
on  the  eve  of  election,  to  devote  your  energies  to  over- 
whelming beneath  the  shower  of  your  fearless  ballots 
this  insult  to  the  intelligence  of  the  voters  of  Benham, 
and  this  menace  to  our  free  and  successful  institutions, 
which,  under  the  guidance  of  the  God  of  our  fathers, 
we  purpose  to  keep  perpetually  progressive  and  unde- 
filed." 

A  salvo  of  enthusiasm  greeted  Mr.  Lyons  as  he  con- 
cluded. His  speeches  were  apt  to  cause  those  whom  he 
addressed  to  feel  that  they  were  no  common  campaign 
utterances,  but  eloquent  expressions  of  principle  and 
conviction,  clothed  in  memorable  language,  as,  indeed, 
they  were.  He  was  fond  of  giving  a  moral  or  patriotic 
flavor  to  what  he  said  in  public,  for  he  entertained  both 
a  profound  reverence  for  high  moral  ideas  and  an  abid- 
ing faith  in  the  superiority  of  everything  American. 
He  had  arrayed  himself  on  the  threshold  of  his  legal 
career  as  a  friend  and  champion  of  the  mass  of  the 
people — the  plain  and  sovereign  people,  as  he  was  apt 
to  style  them  in  public.  His  first  and  considerable  suc- 
cesses had  been  as  the  counsel  for  plaintiffs  before  juries 
in  accident  cases  against  large  corporations,  and  he  had 
thought  of  himself  with  complete  sincerity  as  a  plain 
man,  contesting  for  human  rights  before  the  bar  of  jus- 
tice, by  the  sheer  might  of  his  sonorous  voice  and  dili- 
gent brain.  His  political  development  had  been  on  the 
same  side.  Latterly  the  situation  had  become  a  little 
puzzling,  though  to  a  man  of  straightforward  inten- 
tions, like  himself,  not  fundamentally  embarrassing. 
That  is,  the  last  four  or  five  years  had  altered  both 
the  character  of  his  practice  and  his  circumstances,  so 
284 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

that  instead  of  fighting  corporations  he  was  now  the 
close  adviser  of  a  score  of  them ;  not  the  defender  of 
their  accident  cases,  but  the  confidential  attorney  who 
was  consulted  in  regard  to  their  vital  interests,  and 
who  charged  them  liberal  sums  for  his  services.  He 
still  figured  in  court  from  time  to  time  in  his  capacity 
of  the  plain  man's  friond,  which  he  still  considered 
himself  to  be  no  less  than  before,  but  most  of  his  time 
was  devoted  to  protecting  the  legal  interests  of  the  rail- 
road, gas,  water,  manufacturing,  mining  and  other 
undertakings  which  the  rapid  growth  of  Benham  had 
forgotten.  And  as  a  result  of  this  commerce  with  the 
leading  men  of  affairs  in  Benham,  and  knowledge  of 
what  was  going  on,  he  had  been  able  to  invest  his  large 
fees  to  the  best  advantage,  and  had  already  reaped  a 
rich  harvest  from  the  rapid  rise  in  value  of  the  securi- 
ties of  diverse  successful  enterprises.  When  new  proj- 
ects were  under  consideration  he  was  in  a  position  to 
have  a  finger  in  the  pie,  and  he  was  able  to  borrow  freely 
from  a  local  bank  in  which  he  was  a  director. 

He  was  puzzled — it  might  be  said  distressed — how  to 
make  these  rewards  of  his  professional  prominence  ap- 
pear compatible  with  his  real  political  principles,  so  that 
the  plain  and  sovereign  people  would  recognize  as 
clearly  as  he  that  there  was  no  inconsistency  in  his  hav- 
ing taken  advantage  of  the  opportunities  for  profes- 
sional advancement  thrown  in  his  way.  He  was  ambi- 
tious for  political  preferment,  sharing  the  growing 
impression  that  he  was  well  qualified  for  public  office, 
and  he  desired  to  rise  as  the  champion  of  popular  ideas. 
Consequently  he  resented  bitterly  the  calumnies  which 
had  appeared  in  one  or  two  irresponsible  newspapers  to 
the  effect  that  he  was  becoming  a  corporation  attor- 
888 


CJNLEAVENED  BREAD 

ney  and  a  capitalist.  Could  a  man  refuse  legitimate 
business  which  was  thrust  upon  him  ?  How  were  his 
convictions  and  interest  in  the  cause  of  struggling 
humanity  altered  or  affected  by  his  success  at  the  bar  ? 
Hence  he  neglected  no  occasion  to  declare  his  allegiance 
to  progressive  doctrine,  and  to  give  utterance  to  the 
patriotism  which  at  all  times  was  on  tap  in  his  emo- 
tional system.  He  had  been  married,  but  his  wife  had 
been  dead  a  number  of  years,  and  he  made  his  home 
with  his  aged  mother,  to  whom  he  was  apt  to  refer  with 
pious  tremulousness  when  he  desired  to  emphasize  some 
domestic  situation  before  a  jury.  As  a  staunch  member 
of  the  Methodist  Church,  he  was  on  terms  of  intimate 
association  with  his  pastor,  and  was  known  as  a  liberal 
contributor  to  domestic  and  foreign  missions. 

Selma  was  genuinely  carried  away  by  the  character  of 
his  oratory.  His  sentiments  were  so  completely  in  ac- 
cord with  her  own  ideas  that  she  felt  he  had  left  nothing 
unsaid,  and  had  put  the  case  grandly.  Here  at  last  was 
a  man  who  shared  with  her  the  convictions  with  which 
her  brain  was  seething — a  man  who  was  not  afraid  to 
give  public  expression  to  his  views,  and  who  possessed  a 
splendid  gift  of  statement.  She  had  felt  sure  that  she 
would  meet  sympathy  and  kindred  spirits  in  Benham, 
but  her  experience  in  New  York  had  so  far  depressed 
her  that  she  had  not  allowed  herself  to  expect  such  a 
thorough-going  champion.  What  a  contrast  his  solid, 
devotional,  yet  business-like  aspect  was  to  the  quizzical 
lightness  of  the  men  in  New  York  she  had  been  told 
were  clever,  like  Dr.  Page  and  Mr.  Dennison  1  He  pos- 
sessed Wilbur's  ardor  and  reverence,  with  a  robustness 
of  physique  and  a  practical  air  which  Wilbur  had  lacked 
—lacked  to  his  and  her  detriment.  If  Wilbur  had  been 
286 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

as  vigorous  in  body  as  he  ought  to  have  been,  would  he 
have  died  ?  She  had  read  somewhere  lately  that  phys- 
ical delicacy  was  apt  to  react  on  the  mind  and  make 
one's  ideas  too  fine-spun  and  unsubstantial.  Here  was 
;he  advantage  which  a  man  like  Mr.  Lyons  had  over 
Wilbur.  He  was  strong  and  thickset,  and  looked  as 
though  he  could  endure  hard  work  without  wincing. 
So  could  she.  It  was  a  great  boon,  an  essential  of  ef- 
fective manhood  or  womanhood.  These  thoughts  fol- 
lowed in  the  wake  of  the  enthusiasm  his  personality 
had  aroused  in  her  at  the  close  of  his  address.  She 
scarcely  heard  the  remarks  of  the  next  speaker,  the  last 
on  the  programme.  Her  eyes  kept  straying  wistfully  in 
the  direction  of  Mr.  Lyons,  and  she  wondered  if  there 
would  be  an  opportunity  when  the  meeting  was  over  to 
let  him  know  how  much  she  approved  of  what  he  had 
said,  and  how  necessary  she  felt  the  promulgation  of 
such  ideas  was  for  the  welfare  of  the  country. 

She  was  aroused  from  contemplation  by  the  voice  of 
Mrs.  Earle,  who,  now  that  everybody  was  standing  up 
preliminary  to  departure,  bent  over  her  front  bench  on 
the  platform  to  whisper,  "  Wasn't  Mr.  Lyons  splen- 
did?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  Selma.  "I  should  like  so  much 
to  make  his  acquaintance,  to  compare  notes  with  him 
and  thank  him  for  his  brave,  true  words." 

"  I  know  he'd  be  pleased  to  meet  you.  I'll  try  to 
catch  his  eye.  I  wish  some  of  those  Reform  Club  people 
could  have  heard  what  he  thought  of  them.  There ! 
He's  looking  this  way.  I'm  going  to  attract  his  atten- 
tion." Whereupon  Mrs.  Earle  began  to  nod  in  his  direc- 
tion energetically.  "  He  sees  us  now,  and  has  noticed 
you.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  he  has  recognized  you. 
287 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Follow  me  close,  Selma,  and  we'll  be  able  to  shake  hands 
with  him." 

By  dint  of  squeezing  and  stertorous  declarations  of 
her  desire,  Mrs.  Earle  obtained  a  gradual  passage  through 
the  crowd.  Many  from  the  audience  had  ascended  to 
the  platform  for  the  purpose  of  accosting  the  speakers, 
and  a  large  share  of  the  interest  was  being  bestowed 
on  Mr.  Lyons,  who  was  holding  an  impromptu  recep- 
tion. When  at  last  Mrs.  Earle  had  worked  her  way  to 
within  a  few  feet  of  him,  her  wheezing  condition  and 
bulk  announced  her  approach,  and  procured  her  con- 
sideration from  the  others  in  the  line,  so  that  she 
was  able  to  plant  herself  pervasively  and  firmly  in 
front  of  her  idol  and  take  possession  of  him  by  the 
fervid  announcement,  "You  were  simply  unanswer- 
able. Eloquent,  convincing,  and  unanswerable.  And  I 
have  brought  with  me  an  old  friend,  Mrs.  Littleton, 
who  sympathizes  with  your  superb  utterances,  and 
wishes  to  tell  you  so." 

As  Selma  stepped  forward  in  recognition  of  this  intro- 
duction she  vibrated  to  hear  Mr.  Lyons  say,  without  a 
sign  of  hesitation,  "  A  friend  whom  it  is  a  pleasure  to 
welcome  back  to  Benham.  Mrs.  Littleton,  I  am  pleased 
to  meet  you  again." 

Selma  had  hoped,  and  felt  it  her  due,  that  he  would 
recognize  her.  Still  his  having  done  so  at  once  was  a 
compliment  which  served  to  enhance  the  favorable  opin- 
ion which  she  had  already  formed  regarding  him. 

"  I  have  been  longing  for  months,  Mr.  Lyons,"  she 
said,  "  to  hear  someone  say  what  you  have  said  to-night. 
I  am  concerned,  as  we  all  are  of  course,  in  Miss  Bailey's 
election,  and  your  advocacy  of  her  cause  was  most  brill- 
iant ;  but  what  I  refer  to — what  interested  me  especially  > 
288 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

was  the  splendid  protest  you  uttered  against  all  move- 
ments to  prevent  the  intelligence  of  the  people  from  as- 
serting itself.  It  gave  me  encouragement  and  made  me 
feel  that  the  outlook  for  the  future  is  bright — that  our 
truths  must  prevail." 

It  was  a  maxim  with  Lyons  that  it  was  desirable  to 
remember  everyone  he  met,  and  he  prided  himself  on 
his  ability  to  call  cordially  by  name  clients  or  chance 
acquaintances  whom  he  had  not  seen  for  years.  Nature 
had  endowed  him  with  a  good  memory  for  names  and 
faces,  but  he  had  learned  to  take  advantage  of  all  oppor- 
tunities to  brush  up  his  wits  before  they  were  called  into 
flattering,  spontaneous  action.  When  his  glance,  at- 
tracted by  Mrs.  Earless  remote  gesticulation,  rested  on 
Selma's  face,  he  began  to  ask  himself  at  once  where  he 
had  seen  it  before.  In  the  interval  vouchsafed  by  her 
approach  he  recalled  the  incident  of  the  divorce,  that 
her  name  had  been  Babcock,  and  that  she  had  married 
again,  but  he  was  still  groping  for  the  name  of  her  hus- 
band when  the  necessary  clew  was  supplied  by  Mrs. 
Earle,  and  he  was  able  to  make  his  recognition  of  her 
exhaustive.  He  noticed  with  approval  her  pretty  face 
and  compact  figure,  reflecting  that  the  slight  gain  in 
flesh  was  to  her  advantage,  and  noticed  also  her  widow's 
mourning.  But  her  eager,  fluent  address  and  zealous 
manner  had  prevented  his  attention  from  secretly  wan- 
dering with  business-like  foresight  to  the  next  persons 
in  the  line  of  those  anxious  to  shake  his  hand,  and  led 
him  to  regard  her  a  second  time.  He  was  accustomed  to 
compliments,  but  he  was  struck  by  the  note  of  discrimi- 
nating companionship  in  her  congratulation.  He  be- 
lieved that  he  had  much  at  heart  the  very  issue  which 
she  had  touched  upon,  and  it  gratified  him  that  a 
289 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

woman  whose  appearance  was  so  attractive  to  him  should 
single  out  for  sympathetic  enthusiasm  what  was  in  his 
opinion  the  cardinal  principle  involved,  instead  of  ex- 
patiating on  the  assistance  he  had  rendered  Miss  Bailey. 
Lyons  said  to  himself  that  here  was  a  kindred  spirit — 
a  woman  with  whom  conversation  would  be  a  pleasure  ; 
with  whom  it  would  be  possible  to  discourse  on  terms  of 
mental  comradeship.  He  was  partial  to  comely  women, 
but  he  did  not  approve  of  frivolity  except  on  special 
and  guarded  occasions. 

"  I  thank  you  cordially  for  your  appreciation,"  he 
answered.  "Yon  have  grasped  the  vital  kernel  of  my 
speech  and  I  am  grateful  for  your  good  opinion." 

Even  in  addressing  the  other  sex,  Lyons  could  not 
forget  the  responsibility  of  his  frock-coat  and  that  it 
was  incumbent  upon  him  to  be  strictly  serious  in  public. 
Nevertheless  his  august  but  glib  demeanor  suited 
Selma's  mood  better  than  more  obvious  gallantry,  espe- 
cially as  she  got  the  impression,  which  he  really  wished 
to  convey,  that  he  admired  her.  It  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion for  him  to  prolong  the  situation  in  the  face  of 
those  waiting  to  grasp  his  hand,  but  Lyons  heard  with 
interest  the  statement  which  Mrs.  Earle  managed  to 
whisper  hoarsely  in  his  ear  just  as  he  turned  to  welcome 
the  next  comer,  and  they  were  swept  along  : 

"  She  is  one  of  our  brightest  minds.  The  poor  child 
has  recently  lost  her  husband,  and  has  come  to  keep  Mr. 
Parsons  company  in  his  new  house — an  ideal  arrange- 
ment." 

The  identity  of  Mr.    Parsons  was  well    known  to 

Lyons.     He  had  met  him  occasionally  in  the  past  in 

other  parts  of  the  State  in  connection  with  business 

complications,  and  regarded  him  as  a  practical,  in  tell '- 

290 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

gent  citizen  whose  name  would  be  of  value  to  an  aspirant 
for  Congressional  honors.  It  occurred  to  him  as  he 
shook  hands  with  those  next  in  line  and  addressed  them 
that  it  would  be  eminently  suitable  if  he  should  pay  his 
respects  to  this  new-comer  to  Benham  by  a  visit.  By  so 
doing  he  would  kill  two  birds  with  one  stone,  for  he  had 
reasoned  of  late  that  he  owed  it  to  himself  to  see  more  of 
the  other  sex.  He  had  no  specific  matrimonial  inten- 
tions ;  that  is,  he  was  not  on  the  lookout  for  a  wife  ;  but 
he  approved  of  happy  unions  as  one  of  the  great  bul- 
warks of  the  community,  and  was  well-disposed  to  en- 
counter a  suitable  helpmate.  He  should  expect  physical 
charms,  dignity,  capacity  and  a  sympathetic  mind ;  a 
woman,  in  short,  who  would  be  an  ornament  to  his 
home,  a  Christian  influence  in  society  and  a  companion 
whose  intelligent  tact  would  be  likely  to  promote  his 
political  fortunes.  And  so  it  happened  that  in  the 
course  of  the  next  few  days  he  found  himself  thinking 
of  Mrs.  Littleton  as  a  fine  figure  of  a  woman.  This  had 
not  happened  to  him  before  since  the  death  of  his  wife, 
and  it  made  him  thoughtful  to  the  extent  of  asking 
"  Why  not  ?  "  For  in  spite  of  his  long  frock-coat  and 
proper  demeanor,  passion  was  not  extinct  in  the  bosom 
of  the  Hon.  James  0.  Lyons,  and  he  was  capable  on 
special  and  guarded  occasions  of  telling  a  woman  that  he 
loved  her. 


291 


CHAPTER  III. 

Miss  LUELLA  BAILEY  was  not  elected.  The  unenlight- 
ened prejudice  of  man  to  prefer  one  of  his  own  sex, 
combined  with  the  hostility  of  the  Reform  Club,  pro- 
cured her  defeat,  notwithstanding  that  the  rest  of  her 
ticket  triumphed  at  the  polls.  There  was  some  conso- 
lation for  her  friends  in  the  fact  that  her  rival,  Miss 
Snow,  had  a  considerably  smaller  number  of  votes  than 
she.  Selma  solaced  herself  by  the  reflection  that,  as  she 
had  been  consulted  only  at  the  twelfth  hour,  she  was  not 
responsible  for  the  result,  but  she  felt  nerved  by  the  de- 
feat to  concentrate  her  energies  against  the  proposed 
bill  for  an  appointed  school  board. 

Her  immediate  attention  and  sympathy  were  suddenly 
invoked  by  the  illness  of  Mr.  Parsons,  who  had  seemed 
lacking  in  physical  vigor  for  some  weeks,  and  whose 
symptoms  culminated  in  a  slight  paralysis,  which  con- 
fined him  to  his  bed  for  a  month,  and  to  his  house  dur- 
ing the  remainder  of  the  autumn.  Selma  rejoiced  in 
this  opportunity  to  develop  her  capacities  as  a  nurse, 
to  prove  how  adequate  she  would  have  been  to  take  com- 
plete charge  of  her  late  husband,  had  Dr.  Page  chosen 
to  trust  her.  She  administered  with  scrupulous  regu- 
larity to  the  invalid  such  medicines  as  were  ordered, 
and  kept  him  cheerful  by  reading  and  conversation,  so 
that  the  physician  in  charge  complimented  her  on  her 
proficiency.  Trained  nurses  were  unknown  in  Benham 
292 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

at  this  time,  and  any  old  or  unoccupied  female  was  re- 
garded as  qualified  to  watch  over  the  sick.  Selma  ap- 
preciated from  what  she  had  observed  of  the  conduct  of 
Wilbur's  nurse  that  there  was  a  wrong  and  a  right  way 
of  doing  things,  but  she  blamed  Dr.  Page  for  his  failure 
to  appreciate  instinctively  that  she  was  sure  to  do  things 
suitably.  It  seemed  to  her  that  he  had  lacked  the  in- 
tuitive gift  to  discern  latent  capabilities — a  fault  of 
which  the  Benham  practitioner  proved  blameless. 

From  the  large,  sunny  chamber  in  which  Mr.  Parsons 
slowly  recovered  some  portion  of  his  vitality,  Selma 
could  discern  the  distant  beginnings  of  Wetmore  Col- 
lege, pleasantly  situated  on  an  elevation  well  beyond  the 
city  limits  on  the  further  side  of  the  winding  river.  An 
architect  had  been  engaged  to  carry  out  Wilbur's  plans, 
and  she  watched  the  outlines  of  the  new  building  grad- 
ually take  shape  during  the  convalescence  of  her  bene- 
factor. She  recognized  that  the  college  would  be  theo- 
retically a  noble  addition  to  the  standing  of  Benham  as 
a  city  of  intellectual  and  aesthetic  interests,  but  it  pro- 
voked her  to  think  that  its  management  was  in  the 
hands  of  Mrs.  Hallett  Taylor  and  her  friends,  between 
whom  and  herself  she  felt  that  a  chasm  of  irreconcila- 
ble differences  of  opinion  existed.  Mrs.  Taylor  had  not 
called  on  her  since  her  return.  She  believed  that  she 
was  glad  of  this,  and  hoped  that  some  of  the  severely 
indignant  criticism  which  she  had  uttered  in  regard 
to  the  Reform  Club  movement  had  reached  her  ears. 
Or  was  Mrs.  Taylor  envious  of  her  return  to  Benham 
as  the  true  mistress  of  this  fine  establishment  on  the 
River  Drive,  so  superior  to  her  own  ?  Nevertheless,  it 
would  have  suited  Selma  to  have  been  one  of  the  trus- 
tees of  this  new  college — her  husband's  handiwork  in 
293 


UNLEAVENED  BKEAD 

the  doing  of  which  he  had  laid  down  his  promising 
life — and  the  fact  that  no  one  had  sought  her  out  and 
offered  her  the  honor  as  a  fitting  recognition  of  her  due 
was  secretly  mortifying.  The  Benham  Institute  had 
been  prompt  to  acknowledge  her  presence  by  giving  a 
reception  in  her  honor,  at  which  she  was  able  to  recite 
once  more,  "  Oh,  why  should  the  Spirit  of  Mortal  be 
proud  ?"  with  old-time  success,  and  she  had  been  in- 
formed by  Mrs.  Earle  that  she  was  likely  to  be  chosen 
one  of  the  Vice-Presidents  at  the  annual  meeting.  But 
these  Reform  Club  people  had  not  even  done  her  the 
courtesy  to  ask  her  to  join  them  or  consider  their  opin- 
ions. She  would  have  spurned  the  invitation  with  con- 
tempt, but  it  piqued  her  not  to  know  more  about  them  ; 
it  distressed  her  to  think  that  there  should  exist  in  Ben- 
ham  an  exclusive  set  which  professed  to  be  ethically  and 
intellectually  superior  and  did  not  include  her,  for  she 
had  come  to  Benham  with  the  intention  of  leading  such 
a  movement,  to  the  detriment  of  fashion  and  frivolity. 
With  Mr.  Parsons's  money  at  her  back,  she  was  serenely 
confident  that  the  houses  of  the  magnates  of  Benham — 
the  people  who  corresponded  in  her  mind's  eye  to  the 
dwellers  on  Fifth  Avenue — would  open  to  her.  Already 
there  had  been  flattering  indications  that  she  would  be 
able  to  command  attention  there.  She  had  expected  to 
find  this  so  ;  her  heart  would  have  been  broken  to  find 
it  otherwise.  Still,  her  hope  in  shaking  the  dust  of 
New  York  from  her  feet  had  been  to  find  in  Benham  an 
equally  admirable  and  satisfactory  atmosphere  in  regard 
to  mental  and  moral  progress.  She  had  come  just  in 
time,  it  is  true,  to  utter  her  vehement  protest  against 
this  exclusive,  aristocratic  movement — this  arrogant 
affectation  of  superiority,  and  to  array  herself  in  battle 
294, 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

line  against  it,  resolved  to  give  herself  up  with  enthu- 
siasm to  its  annihilation.  Yet  the  sight  of  the  college 
buildings  for  the  higher  education  of  women,  rising 
without  her  furtherance  and  supervision,  and  under  the 
direction  of  these -people,  made  her  sad  and  gave  her  a 
feeling  of  disappointment.  Why  had  they  been  per- 
mitted to  obtain  this  foothold  ?  Someone  had  been 
lacking  in  vigilance  and  foresight.  Thank  heaven,  with 
her  return  and  a  strong,  popular  spirit  like  Mr.  Lyons 
in  the  lead,  these  unsympathetic,  so-called  reformers 
would  speedily  be  confounded,  and  the  intellectual  air 
of  Benham  restored  to  its  original  purity. 

One  afternoon  while  Selma's  gaze  happened  to  be 
directed  toward  the  embryo  college  walls,  and  she  was 
incubating  on  the  situation,  Mr.  Parsons,  •  who  had 
seemed  to  be  dozing,  suddenly  said  : 

"  I  should  like  you  to  write  to  Mr.  Lyons,  the  lawyer, 
and  ask  him  to  come  to  see  me." 

"  I  will  write  to-night.  You  know  he  called  while 
you  were  ill." 

"  Yes,  I  thought  him  a  clever  fellow  when  we  met  two 
or  three  times  on  railroad  matters,  and  I  gather  from 
what  you  told  me  about  his  speech  at  the  political  meet- 
ting  that  he's  a  rising  man  hereabouts.  I'm  going  to 
make  my  will,  and  I  need  him  to  put  it  into  proper 
shape/' 

"Fm  sure  he'd  do  it  correctly." 

"There's  not  much  for  him  to  do  except  to  make  sure 
that  the  language  is  legal,  for  I've  thought  it  all  out 
while  I've  been  lying  here  during  these  weeks.  Still, 
it's  important  to  have  in  a  lawyer  to  fix  it  so  the  people 
whom  I  don't  intend  to  get  my  money  shan't  be  able  to 
make  out  that  I'm  not  in  my  right  mind.  I  guess/'  he 
295 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

added,  with  a  laugh,  "  that   the  doctor  will  allow  I've 
my  wits  sufficiently  for  that  ?  " 

"  Surely.  You  are  practically  well  now." 
Mr.  Parsons  was  silent  for  a  moment.  He  prided 
himself  on  being  close-mouthed  about  his  private  affairs 
until  they  were  ripe  for  utterance.  His  intention  had 
been  to  defer  until  after  the  interview  with  his  lawyer 
any  statement  of  his  purpose,  but  it  suddenly  occurred 
to  him  that  it  would  please  him  to  unbosom  his  secret 
to  his  companion  because  he  felt  sure  in  advance  that 
she  would  sympathize  fully  with  his  plans.  He  had 
meant  to  tell  her  when  the  instrument  was  signed. 
Why  not  now  ? 

"Selma,"he  said,  "I've  known  ever  since  my  wife 
and  daughter  died  that  I  ought  to  make  a  will,  but  I 
kept  putting  it  off  until  it  has  almost  happened  that 
everything  I've  got  went  to  my  next  of  kin— folk  I'm  fond 
of,  too,  and  mean  to  remember — but  not  fond  enough 
for  that.  If  I  give  them  fifty  thousand  dollars  apiece 
— the  three  of  them — I  shall  rest  easy  in  my  grave, 
even  if  they  think  they  ought  to  have  had  a  bigger 
slice.  It's  hard  on  a  man  who  has  worked  all  his 
days,  and  laid  up  close  to  a  million  of  dollars,  not  to 
have  a  son  or  a  daughter,  flesh  of  my  flesh,  to  leave 
it  to  ;  a  boy  or  a  girl  given  at  the  start  the  education  I 
didn't  get,  and  who,  by  the  help  of  my  money,  might 
make  me  proud,  if  I  could  look  on,  of  my  name  or  my 
blood.  It  wasn't  to  be,  and  I  must  grin  and  bear  it,  and 
do  the  next  best  thing.  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  what 
that  thing  was  soon  after  I  lost  my  wife  and  daughter, 
and  it  was  the  thought  of  that  more  than  anything 
which  kept  me  from  going  crazy  with  despair.  I'm  a 
plain  man,  an  uneducated  man,  but  the  fortune  I've 
296 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

made  has  been  made  honestly,  and  I'm  going  to  spend 
it  for  the  good  of  the  American  people — to  contribute 
my  mite  toward  helping  the  cause  of  truth  and  good 
citizenship  and  free  and  independent  ideas  which  this 
nation  calls  for.  I'm  going  to  give  my  money  for  be- 
nevolent uses." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Parsons,"  exclaimed  Selma,  clasping  her 
hands,  "  how  splendid  !  how  glorious  !  How  I  envy  you. 
It  was  what  I  hoped." 

"  I  knew  you  would  be  pleased.  Fve  had  half  a  mind 
once  or  twice  to  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag,  because  I 
guessed  it  would  be  the  sort  of  thing  that  would  take 
your  fancy ;  but  somehow  I've  kept  mum,  for  fear  I 
might  be  taken  before  I'd  been  able  to  make  a  will. 
And  then,  too,  I've  been  of  several  minds  as  to  the 
form  of  my  gift.  I  thought  it  would  suit  me  best  of  all 
to  found  a  college,  and  I  was  disappointed  when  I 
learned  that  neighbor  Flagg  had  got  the  start  of  me 
with  his  seminary  for  women  across  the  river.  I  wasn't 
happy  over  it  until  one  night,  just  after  the  doctor 
had  gone,  the  thought  came  to  me,  <  Why,  not  give  a 
hospital  ? '  And  that's  what  it's  to  be.  Five  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars  for  a  free  hospital  in  the  City 
of  Benham,  in  memory  of  my  wife  and  daughter. 
That'll  be  useful,  won't  it  ?  That'll  help  the  people  as 
much  as  a  college  ?  And,  Selma,"  he  added,  cutting 
off  the  assuring  answer  which  trembled  on  her  tongue 
and  blazed  from  her  eyes,  "  I  shan't  forget  you.  After 
I'm  gone  you  are  to  have  twenty  thousand  dollars. 
That'll  enable  you,  in  case  you  don't  marry,  to  keep  a 
roof  over  your  head  without  working  too  hard." 

"  Thank  you.  You  are  very  generous,"  she  said. 
The  announcement  was  pleasant  to  her,  but  at  the  mo« 
297 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

ment  it  seemed  of  secondary  importance.  Her  en- 
thusiasm had  been  aroused  by  the  fact  and  character  of 
his  public  donation,  and  already  her  brain  was  dancing 
with  the  thought  of  the  prospect  of  a  rival  vital  institu- 
tion in  connection  with  which  her  views  and  her  talents 
would  in  all  probability  be  consulted  and  allowed  to  ex- 
ercise themselves.  Her's,  and  not  Mrs.  Taylor's,  or  any 
of  that  censorious  and  restricting  set.  In  that  hospital, 
at  least,  ambition  and  originality  would  be  allowed  to 
show  what  they  could  do  unfettered  by  envy  or  paralyzed 
by  conservatism.  "  But  I  can't  think  of  anything  now, 
Mr.  Parsons,  except  the  grand  secret  you  have  confided 
to  me.  A  hospital !  It  is  an  ideal  gift.  It  will  show 
the  world  what  noble  uses  our  rich,  earnest-minded  men 
make  of  their  money,  and  it  will  give  our  doctors  and 
our  people  a  chance  to  demonstrate  what  a  free  hos- 
pital ought  to  be.  Oh,  I  congratulate  you.  I  will  write 
to  Mr.  Lyons  at  once." 

A  note  in  prompt  response  stated  the  hour  when  the 
lawyer  would  call.  On  his  arrival  he  was  shown  imme- 
diately to  Mr.  Parsons's  apartments,  with  whom  he  was 
closeted  alone.  Selma  managed  to  cross  the  hall  at  the 
moment  he  was  descending,  and  he  was  easily  persuaded 
to  linger  and  to  follow  her  into  the  library. 

"I  was  anxious  to  say  a  few  words  to  you,  Mr. 
Lyons,"  she  said.  "I  know  the  purpose  for  which 
Mr.  Parsons  sent  for  you.  He  has  confided  to  me  con- 
cerning his  will — told  me  everything.  It  is  a  noble 
disposition  of  his  property.  A  free  hospital  for  Ben- 
ham  is  an  ideal  selection,  and  one  envies  him  his  op- 
portunity." 

"  Yes.     It  is  a  superb  and  generous  benefaction." 

"I  lay  awake  for  hours  last  night  thinking  about  it; 
298 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

thinking  particularly  of  the  special  point  I  am  desirous 
to  consult  you  in  regard  to.  I  don't  wish  to  appear 
officious,  or  to  say  anything  I  shouldn't,  but  knowing 
from  what  I  heard  you  state  in  your  speech  the  other 
day  that  you  feel  as  I  do  in  regard  to  such  matters,  I 
take  the  liberty  of  suggesting  that  it  seems  to  me  of 
very  great  importance  that  the  management  of  this  mag- 
nificent gift  should  be  in  proper  hands.  May  I  ask  you 
without  impropriety  if  you  will  protect  Mr.  Parsons  so 
that  captious  or  uuenthusiastic  persons,  men  or  women, 
will  be  unable  to  control  the  policy  of  his  hospital  ?  He 
would  wish  it  so,  I  am  sure.  I  thought  of  mentioning 
the  matter  to  him  myself,  but  I  was  afraid  lest  it  might 
worry  him  and  spoil  the  satisfaction  of  his  generosity  or 
retard  his  cure.  Is  what  I  ask  possible  ?  Do  I  make 
myself  clear  ?" 

"  Perfectly — perfectly.  A  valuable  suggestion,"  he 
said.  "I  am  glad  that  you  have  spoken — very  glad. 
Alive  as  I  am  to  the  importance  of  protecting  ourselves 
at  all  points,  I  might  not  have  realized  this  particular 
danger  had  you  not  called  it  to  my  attention.  Perhaps 
only  a  clever  woman  would  have  thought  of  it." 

"  Oh,  thank  you.  I  felt  that  I  could  not  keep  silence, 
and  run  the  risk  of  what  might  happen." 

"  Precisely.  I  think  I  can  relieve  your  mind  by  tell- 
ing you — which  under  the  circumstances  is  no  breach  of 
professional  secrecy,  for  it  is  plain  that  the  testator  de- 
sires you  to  know  his  purpose — that  Mr.  Parsons  has 
done  me  the  honor  to  request  me  to  act  as  the  executor 
of  his  will.  As  such  I  shall  be  in  a  position  to  make 
sure  that  those  to  whom  the  management  of  his  hospital 
is  intrusted  are  people  in  whom  you  and  I  would  have 
confidence." 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"Ah  !  That  is  very  satisfactory.  It  makes  every- 
thing as  it  should  be,  and  I  am  immensely  relieved/' 

"  Now  that  you  have  spoken,"  he  added,  meeting  her 
eager  gaze  with  a  propitiating  look  of  reflective  wisdom, 
"  I  will  consider  the  advisability  of  taking  thj  further 
precaution  of  advising  the  testator  to  name  in  his  will 
the  persons  who  shall  act  as  the  trustees  of  his  charity. 
That  would  clinch  the  matter.  The  selection  of  the  in- 
dividuals would  necessarily  lie  with  Mr.  Parsons,  but  it 
would  seem  eminently  natural  and  fitting  that  he  should 
name  you  to  represent  your  sex  on  such  a  board.  I  hope 
it  would  be  agreeable  to  you  to  serve  ?  " 

Selma  flushed.  "It  would  be  a  position  which  I 
should  prize  immensely.  Such  a  possibility  had  not 
occurred  to  me,  though  I  felt  that  some  definite  provis- 
ion should  be  made.  The  responsibility  would  be  con- 
genial to  me  and  very  much  in  my  line." 

"Assuredly.  If  you  will  permit  me  to  say  so,  you  are 
just  the  woman  for  the  place.  .  We  have  met  only  a  few 
times,  Mrs.  Littleton,  but  I  am  a  man  who  forms  my 
conclusions  of  people  rapidly,  and  it  is  obvious  to  me 
that  you  are  thoughtful,  energetic,  and  liberal-minded 
— qualities  which  are  especially  requisite  for  intelligent 
progress  in  semi-public  work.  It  is  essentially  desirable 
to  enlist  the  co-operation  of  well-equipped  women  to 
promote  the  national  weal." 

Lyons  departed  with  an  agreeable  impression  that  he 
had  been  talking  to  a  woman  who  combined  mental 
sagacity  and  enterprise  with  considerable  fascination  of 
person.  This  capable  companion  of  Mr.  Parsons  was 
no  coquettish  or  simpering  beauty,  no  mere  devotee  of 
fashionable  manners,  but  a  mature,  well-poised  charac- 
ter endowed  with  ripe  intellectual  and  bodily  graces. 
300 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

Their  interview  suggested  that  she  possessed  initiativt 
and  discretion  in  directing  the  course  of  events,  and  a 
strong  sense  of  moral  responsibility,  attributes  which 
attracted  his  interest.  He  was  obliged  to  make  two 
more  visits  before  the  execution  of  the  will,  and  on  each 
occasion  he  had  an  opportunity  to  spend  a  half-hour 
alone  in  the  society  of  Selma.  He  found  her  gravely 
and  engagingly  sympathetic  with  his  advocacy  of  demo- 
cratic principles ;  he  told  her  of  his  ambition  to  be 
elected  to  Congress — an  ambition  which  he  believed 
would  be  realized  the  following  autumn.  He  confided 
to  her,  also,  that  he  was  engaged  in  his  leisure  moments 
in  the  preparation  of  a  literary  volume  to  be  entitled, 
"  Watchwords  of  Patriotism/*  a  study  of  the  requisites 
of  the  best  citizenship,  exemplified  by  pertinent  ex- 
tracts from  the  public  utterances  of  the  most  distin- 
guished American  public  servants. 

Selma  on  her  part  reciprocated  by  a  reference  to  the 
course  of  lectures  on  "  Culture  and  Higher  Education," 
which  she  had  resolved  to  deliver  before  the  Benham 
Institute  during  the  winter.  In  these  lectures  she 
meant  to  emphasize  the  importance  of  unfettered  in- 
dividuality, and  to  comment  adversely  on  the  ten- 
dencies hostile  to  this  fundamental  principle  of  prog- 
ress which  she  had  observed  in  New  York  and  from 
which  Benham  itself  did  not  appear  to  her  to  be  en- 
tirely exempt.  After  delivering  these  lectures  in  Ben- 
ham  she  intended  to  repeat  them  in  various  parts  of  the 
State,  and  in  some  of  the  large  cities  elsewhere,  under  the 
auspices  of  the  Confederated  Sisterhood  of  Women's 
Clubs  of  America,  the  Sorosis  which  Mrs.  Earle  had  es- 
tablished on  a  firm  basis,  and  of  which  at  present  she 
was  second  vice-president.  As  a  token  of  sympathy 
30\ 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

with  this  undertaking,  Mr.  Lyons  offered  to  procure  her 
a  free  pass  on  the  railroads  over  which  she  would  be 
obliged  to  travel.  This  pleased  Selma  greatly,  for  she 
had  always  regarded  free  passes  as  a  sign  of  mysterious 
and  enviable  importance. 

Two  months  later  Selma,  as  secretary  of  the  sub- 
committee of  the  Institute  selected  to  oppose  before 
the  legislature  the  bill  to  create  an  appointed  school 
board,  had  further  occasion  to  confer  with  Mr.  Lyons. 
He  agreed  to  be  the  active  counsel,  and  approved  of  the 
plan  that  a  delegation  of  women  should  journey  to  the 
capital,  two  hours  and  a  half  by  rail,  and  add  the  moral 
support  of  their  presence  at  the  hearing  before  the 
legislative  committee. 

The  expedition  was  another  gratification  to  Selma — 
who  had  become  possessed  of  her  free  pass.  She  felt 
that  in  visiting  the  state-house  and  thus  taking  an  active 
part  in  the  work  of  legislation  she  was  beginning  to  ful- 
fil the  larger  destiny  for  which  she  was  qualified.  Side 
by  side  with  Mrs.  Earle  at  the  head  of  a  delegation  of 
twenty  Benham  women  she  marched  augustly  into  the 
committee  chamber.  The  contending  factions  sat  on 
opposite  sides  of  the  room.  Through  its  middle  ran  a 
long  table  occupied  by  the  Committee  on  Education  to 
which  the  bill  had  been  referred.  Among  the  dozen  or 
fifteen  persons  who  appeared  in  support  of  the  bill 
Selma  perceived  Mrs.  Hallett  Taylor,  whom  she  had  not 
see'i  since  her  return.  She  was  disappointed  to  observe 
that  Mrs.  Taylor's  clothes,  though  unostentatious,  were 
in  the  latest  fashion.  She  had  hoped  to  find  her  dowdy 
or  unenlightened,  and  to  be  able  to  look  down  on  her 
from  the  heights  of  her  own  New  York  experience. 

The  lawyer  in  charge  of  the  bill  presented  lucidly  and 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

with  skill  the  merits  of  his  case,  calling  to  the  stand 
four  prominent  educators  from  as  many  different  sec- 
tions of  the  State,  and  several  citizens  of  well-known 
character,  among  them  Babcock's  former  pastor,  Rev. 
Henry  Glynn.  He  pointed  out  that  the  school  com- 
mittee, as  at  present  constituted,  was  an  unwieldy  body 
of  twenty-four  members,  that  it  was  regarded  as  the 
first  round  in  the  ladder  of  political  preferment,  and 
that  the  members  which  composed  it  were  elected  not 
on  the  ground  of  their  fitness,  but  because  they  were 
ambitious  for  political  recognition. 

The  legislative  committee  listened  politely  but  coldly 
to  these  statements  and  to  the  testimony  of  the  wit- 
nesses. It  was  evident  that  they  regarded  the  proposed 
reform  with  distrust. 

"  Do  you  mean  us  to  understand  that  the  public 
schools  of  this  State  are  not  among  the  best,  if  not  the 
best,  in  the  world  ?  "  asked  one  member  of  the  commit- 
tee, somewhat  sternly. 

"  I  recognize  the  merits  of  our  school  system,  but  I 
am  not  blind  to  its  faults/*  responded  the  attorney  in 
charge  of  the  bill.  He  was  a  man  who  possessed  the 
courage  of  his  convictions,  but  he  was  a  lawyer  of  tact, 
and  he  knew  that  his  answer  went  to  the  full  limit  of 
what  he  could  safely  utter  by  way  of  qualification  with- 
out hopelessly  imperilling  his  cause. 

"Are  not  our  public  schools  turning  out  yearly  hun- 
dreds of  boys  and  girls  who  are  a  growing  credit  to  the 
soundness  of  the  institutions  of  the  country  ? "  con- 
tinued the  same  inquisitor. 

Here  was  a  proposition  which  opened  such  a  vista  of 
circuitous  and  careful  speech,  were  he  to  attempt  to  an- 
swer it  and  be  true  to  conscience  without  being  false  to 
303 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

patriotism,  that  Mr.  Hunter  was  driven  to  reply,  "  I  am 
nnable  to  deny  the  general  accuracy  of  your  statement.'* 

"  Then  why  seek  to  harass  those  who  are  doing  such 
good  work  by  unfriendly  legislation  ?  " 

The  member  plainly  felt  that  he  had  disposed  of  the 
matter  by  this  triumphant  interrogation,  for  he  listened 
with  scant  attention  to  a  repetition  of  the  grounds  on 
which  relief  was  sought. 

Mr.  Lyons's  method  of  reply  was  a  surprise  to  Selma. 
She  had  looked  for  a  fervid  vindication  of  the  principle 
of  the  people's  choice,  and  an  eloquent,  sarcastic  setting 
forth  of  the  evils  of  the  exclusive  and  aristocratic  spirit. 
He  began  by  complimenting  the  members  of  the  com- 
mittee on  their  ability  to  deal  intelligently  with  the 
important  question  before  them,  and  then  proceeded 
to  refer  to  the  sincere  but  mistaken  zeal  of  the  advocates 
of  the  bill,  whom  he  described  as  people  animated  by 
conscientious  motives,  but  unduly  distrustful  of  the 
capacity  of  the  American  people.  His  manner  sug- 
gested a  desire  to  be  at  peace  with  all  the  world  and  was 
agreeably  conciliatory,  as  though  he  deprecated  the 
existence  of  friction.  He  said  that  he  would  not  do  the 
members  of  the  committee  the  injustice  to  suppose  that 
they  could  seriously  favor  the  passage  of  a  bill  which 
would  deprive  the  intelligent  average  voter  of  one  of  his 
dearest  privileges ;  but  that  he  desired  to  put  himself 
OD  record  as  thinking  it  a  fortunate  circumstance,  on 
tlie  whole,  that  the  well-intentioned  promoters  of  the 
bill  had  brought  this  matter  to  the  attention  of  the 
legislature,  and  had  an  opportunity  to  express  their 
views.  He  believed  that  the  hearing  would  be  produc- 
tive of  benefit  to  both  parties,  in  that  on  the  one  hand 
it  would  tend  to  make  the  voters  more  careful  as  to 
304 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

whom  they  selected  for  the  important  duties  of  the 
school  board,  and  on  the  other  would — he,  as  a  lover  of 
democratic  institutions,  hoped — serve  to  convince  the 
friends  of  the  bill  that  they  had  exaggerated  the  evils 
of  the  situation,  and  that  they  were  engaged  in  a  false 
and  hopeless  undertaking  in  seeking  to  confine  by  hard 
and  fast  lines  the  spontaneous  yearnings  of  the  Ameri- 
can people  to  control  the  education  of  their  children. 
"  We  say  to  these  critics,"  he  continued,"  some  of  whom 
are  enrolled  under  the  solemn  name  of  reformers,  that 
we  welcome  their  zeal  and  offer  co-operation  in  a  reso- 
lute purpose  to  exercise  unswerving  vigilance  in  the 
selection  of  candidates  for  the  high  office  of  guardians 
of  our  public  schools.  So  far  as  they  will  join  hands 
with  us  in  keeping  undefiled  the  traditions  of  our  fore- 
fathers, to  that  extent  we  are  heartily  in  accord  with 
them,  but  when  they  seek  to  override  those  traditions 
and  to  fasten  upon  this  community  a  method  which  is 
based  on  a  lack  of  confidence  in  democratic  theories, 
then  I — and  gentlemen,  I  feel  sure  that  you — are  against 
them." 

Lyons  sat  down,  having  given  everyone  in  the  room, 
with  the  exception  of  a  few  discerning  spirits  on  the 
other  side,  the  impression  that  he  had  intended  to  be 
pre-eminently  fair,  and  that  he  had  held  out  the  olive 
branch  when  he  would  have  been  justified  in  using  the 
scourge.  The  inclination  to  make  friends,  to  smooth 
over  seamy  situations  and  to  avoid  repellent  language  in 
dealing  with  adversaries,  except  in  corporation  cases 
before  juries  and  on  special  occasions  when  defending 
his  political  convictions,  had  become  a  growing  tendency 
with  him  now  that  he  was  in  training  for  public  office. 
Selma  did  not  quite  know  what  to  make  of  it  at  first. 
305 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

She  had  expected  that  he  would  crush  their  opponents 
beneath  an  avalanche  of  righteous  invective.  Instead 
he  took  his  seat  with  an  expression  of  countenance 
which  was  no  less  benignant  than  dignified.  When  the 
hearing  was  declared  closed,  a  few  minutes  later,  he 
looked  in  her  direction,  and  in  the  course  of  his  passage 
to  where  she  was  sitting  stopped  to  exchange  affable 
greetings  with  assemblymen  and  others  who  came  in  his 
way.  At  his  approach  Mrs.  Earle  uttered  congratula- 
tions so  comprehensive  that  Selma  felt  able  to  refrain 
for  the  moment  from  committing  herself.  "  I  am  glad 
that  you  were  pleased,"  he  said.  "  I  think  I  covered 
the  ground,  and  no  one's  feelings  have  been  hurt."  As 
though  he  divined  what  was  passing  through  Selma's 
mind,  he  added  in  an  aside  intended  only  for  their  ears, 
"It  was  not  necessary  to  use  all  our  powder,  for  I  could 
tell  from  the  way  the  committee  acted  that  they  were 
with  us." 

"  I  felt  sure  they  would  be,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Earle. 
"And,  as  you  say,  it  is  a  pleasure  that  no  one's  feelings 
were  hurt,  and  that  we  can  all  part  friends." 

"Which  reminds  me,"  said  Lyons,  "that  I  should 
be  glad  of  an  introduction  to  Mrs.  Taylor  as  she  passes 
us  on  her  way  out.  I  wish  to  assure  her  personally  of 
my  willingness  to  further  her  efforts  to  improve  the 
quality  of  the  school  board." 

"  That  would  be  nice  of  you,"  said  Mrs.  Earle,  "  and 
ought  to  please  and  encourage  her,  for  she  will  be  dis- 
appointed, poor  thing,  and  after  all  I  suppose  she  means 
well.  There  she  is  now,  and  I  will  keep  my  eye  on  her." 

"But  surely,   Mr.   Lyons,"   said   Selma,  dazed  yet 
interested  by  this  doctrine  of  brotherly  love,  "don't 
you  think  our  school  committee  admirable  as  it  is  ?  " 
306 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"A  highly  efficient  body,"  he  answered.  "But  I 
should  be  glad  to  have  our  opponents — mistaken  as  we 
believe  them  to  be— appreciate  that  we  no  less  than  they 
are  zealous  to  preserve  the  present  high  standard.  We 
must  make  them  recognize  that  we  are  reformers  and  in 
sympathy  with  reform." 

"  I  see/'  said  Selma.  For,  of  course,  we  are  the  real 
reformers.  Convert  them  you  mean  ?  Be  civil  to  them 
at  least  ?  I  understand.  Yes,  I  suppose  there  is  no 
use  in  making  enemies  of  them."  She  was  thinking 
aloud.  Though  ever  on  her  guard  to  resent  false  doc- 
trine, she  was  so  sure  of  the  loyalty  of  both  her  com- 
panions that  she  could  allow  herself  to  be  interested  by 
this  new  point  of  view — a  vast  improvement  on  the  New 
York  manner  because  of  its  ethical  suggestion.  She 
realized  that  if  Mr.  Lyons  was  certain  of  the  committee, 
it  was  right,  and  at  the  same  time  sensible,  not  to  hurt 
anyone's  feelings  unnecessarily — although  she  felt  a 
little  suspicious  because  he  had  asked  to  be  introduced 
to  Mrs.  Taylor.  Indeed,  the  more  she  thought  of  this 
attitude,  on  the  assumption  that  the  victory  was  assured, 
the  more  it  appealed  to  her  conscience  and  intelligence  ; 
so  much  so  that  when  Mrs.  Earle  darted  forward  to 
detain  Mrs.  Taylor,  Selma  was  reflecting  with  admira- 
tion on  his  magnaminity. 

She  observed  intently  the  meeting  between  Mr. 
Lyons  and  Mrs.  Taylor.  He  was  deferential,  com- 
plimentary, and  genial,  and  he  made  a  suave,  impressive 
offer  of  his  personal  services,  in  response  to  which  Mrs. 
Taylor  regarded  him  with  smiling  incredulity — a  smile 
which  Selma  considered  impertinent.  How  dared  she 
treat  his  courtly  advances  with  flippant  distrust ! 

"  Are  you  aware,  Mr.  Lyons,"  Mrs.  Taylor  was  saying, 
307 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

*  chai  one  of  che  present  members  of  the  sciioc.  ooas  1 
is  a  milkman,  and  another  a  carpenter — both  of  them 
persons  01  very  ordinary  efficiency  from  an  educations 
standpoint  t  Will  you  co-operate  with  us,  when  their 
terms  expire  next  ysar  and  they  seek  re-election,  to 
nominate  more  snitabie  candidates  in  their  stead  *  " 

'•  I  shall  be  very  glad  vhen  the  time  comes  to  investi- 
gate carefully  their  qualifications,  and  if  they  are  proved 
to  be  unworthy  of  the  confidence  of  the  people,  to  use 
my  influence  against  them.  You  may  rely  on  this — 
rely  on  my  cordial  support,  and  the  support  of  these 
ladies,"  he  added,  indicating  Mrs.  Earle  and  Selma, 
with  a  wave  of  his  hand,  "  who,  if  you  will  permit  me 
to  say  so,  are  no  less  interested  than  you  in  promoting 
good  government." 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed.  We  thought  we  were  making  an. 
ideal  choice  in  Miss  Luella  Bailey,"  said  Mrs.  Earle  with. 
effusion.  "  If  Mrs.  Taylor  had  seen  more  of  her,  I  feel 
sure  she  would  nave  admired  her,  and  then  our  Institute 
would  not  have  oeen  dragged  into  politics  " 

Mrs.  Taylor  did  not  attempt  to  answer  this  appeal. 
Instead  she  greeted  Selma  civilly,  and  said,  "  I  was  sorry 
to  hear  that  you  were  against  us,  Mrs.  Littleton.  We 
were  allies  once  in  a  good  cause,  and  in  spite  of  Mr. 
Lyons's  protestations  to  the  contrary,  I  assure  you  that 
this  is  another  genuine  opportunity  to  improve  the 
existing  order  of  things.  At  least,"  she  added,  gayly 
but  firmly,  "you  must  not  let  Mr.  Lyons's  predilection 
to  see  everything  through  rose-colored  spectacles  pre- 
vent you  from  looking  into  the  matter  on  your  own 
account." 

"  I  have  done  so  already,"  answered  Selma,  affronted 
at  the  suggestion  that  she  was  uninformed,  yet  restrained 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

from  display  ing  her  annoyance  by  thesudden  inspiration 
that  here  was  an  admirable  opportunity  to  practise  the 
proselytizing  forbearance  suggested  by  Mr.  Lyons.  The 
idea  of  patronizingMrs.  Taylor  from  the  vantage-ground 
of  infallibility,  tinctured  by  magnanimous  condescen- 
sion, appealed  to  her.  "  I  have  made  a  thorough  study 
of  the  question,  and  I  never  could  look  at  it  as  you  do, 
Mrs.  Taylor.  I  sided  with  you  before  because  I  thought 
you  were  right — because  you  were  in  favor  of  giving 
everyone  a  chance  of  expression.  But  now  I'm  on  the 
other  side  for  the  same  reason — because  you  and  your 
friends  are  disposed  to  deprive  people  of  that  very 
thing,  and  to  regard  their  aspirations  and  their  efforts 
contemptuously,  if  I  may  say  so.  That's  the  mistake 
we  think  you  make — we  who,  as  Mr.  Lyons  has  stated, 
are  no  less  eager  than  you  to  maintain  the  present  high 
character  of  everything  which  concerns  our  school  sys- 
tem. But  if  you  only  would  see  things  in  a  little 
different  light,  both  Mrs.  Earle  and  I  would  be  glad  to 
welcome  you  as  an  ally  and  to  co-operate  with  you." 

Selma  had  not  expected  to  make  such  a  lengthy 
speech,  but  as  she  proceeded  she  was  spurred  by  the 
desire  to  teach  Mrs.  Taylor  her  proper  place,  and  at 
the  same  time  to  proclaim  her  own  allegiance  to  the 
attitude  of  optimistic  forbearance. 

"  I  knew  that  was  the  way  they  felt,"  said  Lyons, 
ingratiatingly.  "  It  would  be  a  genuine  pleasure  to 
us  all  to  see  this  unfortunate  difference  of  opinion 
between  earnest  people  obviated." 

Mrs.  Taylor,  as  Selma  was  pleased  to  note,  flushed  at 
her  concluding  offer,  and  she  answered,  drily,  "  I  fear 
that  we  are  too  far  apart  in  our  ideas  to  talk  of  co- 
operation.    If  our  bill  is  defeated  this  year,  we  shall 
309 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

have  to  persevere  and  trust  to  the  gradual  enlighten- 
ment of  public  sentiment.     Good  afternoon/* 

Selma  left  the  State-house  in  an  elated  frame  of  mind. 
She  felt  that  she  had  taken  a  righteous  and  patriotic 
stand,  and  it  pleased  her  to  think  that  she  was  taking 
an  active  part  in  defending  the  institutions  of  the 
country.  She  chatted  eagerly  as  she  walked  through 
the  corridors  with  Mr.  Lyons,  who,  portly  and  imposing, 
acted  as  escort  to  her  and  Mrs.  Earle,  and  invited  them 
to  luncheon  at  a  hotel  restaurant.  Excitement  had 
given  her  more  color  than  usual,  to  which  her  mourn- 
ing  acted  as  a  foil,  and  she  looked  her  best.  Lyons  was 
proud  of  being  in  the  company  of  such  a  presentable  and 
spirited  appearing  woman,  and  made  a  point  of  stopping 
two  or  three  members  of  the  legislature  and  introducing 
them  to  her.  When  they  reached  the  restaurant  he 
established  them  at  a  table  where  they  could  see  every- 
body and  be  seen,  and  he  ordered  scolloped  oysters, 
chicken-salad,  ice-cream,  coffee,  and  some  bottles  of 
sarsaparilla.  Both  women  were  in  high  spirits,  and 
Selma  was  agreeably  conscious  that  people  were  observ- 
ing them.  Before  the  repast  was  over  a  messenger 
brought  a  note  to  Mr.  Lyons,  which  announced  that  the 
legislative  committee  had  given  the  petitioners  leave  to 
withdraw  their  bill,  which,  in  Selma's  eyes,  justified  the 
management  of  the  affair,  and  set  the  seal  of  complete 
success  on  an  already  absorbing  and  delightful  occasion. 


810 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HEB  mourning  and  the  slow  convalescence  of  Mr. 
Parsons  deprived  Selma  of  convincing  evidence  in 
regard  to  her  social  reception  in  Benham,  for  those 
socially  prominent  were  thus  barred  from  inviting  her 
to  their  houses,  and  her  own  activities  were  correspond- 
ingly fettered.  Indeed,  her  circumstances  supplied  her 
with  an  obvious  salve  for  her  proper  dignity  had  she 
been  disposed  to  let  suspicion  lie  fallow.  As  it  was  a 
number  of  people  had  left  cards  and  sent  invitations 
notwithstanding  they  could  not  be  accepted,  and  she 
might  readily  have  believed,  had  she  chosen — and  as 
she  professed  openly  to  Mr.  Parsons — that  everyone 
had  been  uncommonly  civil  and  appreciative. 

She  found  herself,  however,  in  spite  of  her  declared 
devotion  to  her  serious  duties,  noting  that  the  recogni- 
tion accorded  to  Mr.  Parsons  and  herself  was  not  pre- 
cisely of  the  character  she  craved.  The  visiting-cards 
and  invitations  were  from  people  residing  on  the  River 
Drive  and  in  that  neighborhood,  indeed  —  but  from 
people  like  the  Flaggs,  for  instance,  who,  having  ac- 
quired large  wealth  and  erected  lordly  dwellings,  were 
eager  to  dispense  good-natured,  lavish  hospitality  with- 
out social  experience.  Her  sensitive  ordeal  in  New 
York  had  quickened  her  social  perceptions,  so  that 
whereas  at  the  time  of  her  departure  from  Benham  as 
Mrs.  Littleton  she  regarded  her  present  neighborhood 
311 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

as  an  integral  class,  she  was  now  prompt  to  separate  the 
sheep  from  the  goats,  and  to  remark  that  only  the  goats 
seemed  conscious  of  her  existence.  With  the  exception 
of  Mrs.  Taylor,  who  had  called  when  she  was  out,  not 
one  of  a  certain  set,  the  outward  manifestations  of 
whose  stately  being  were  constantly  passing  her  windows, 
appeared  to  take  the  slightest  interest  in  her.  Strictly 
speaking,  Mrs.  Taylor  was  of  this  set,  yet  apart  from  it. 
Hers  was  the  exclusive  intellectual  and  aesthetic  set, 
this  the  exclusive  fashionable  set — both  alike  execrable 
and  foreign  to  the  traditions  of  Benham.  As  Selma 
had  discovered  the  one  and  declared  war  against  it,  so 
she  promised  herself  to  confound  the  other  when  the 
period  of  her  mourning  was  over,  and  she  was  free  to 
appear  again  in  society.  Once  more  she  congratulated 
herself  that  she  had  come  in  time  to  nip  in  the  bud  this 
other  off-shoot  of  aristocratic  tendencies.  As  yet  either 
set  was  small  in  number,  and  she  foresaw  that  it  would 
be  an  easy  task  to  unite  in  a  solid  phalanx  of  offensive- 
defensive  influence  the  friendly  souls  whom  these  people 
treated  as  outsiders,  and  purge  the  society  atmosphere 
of  the  miasma  of  exclusiveness.  In  connection  with  the 
means  to  this  end,  when  the  winter  slipped  away  and 
left  her  feeling  that  she  had  been  ignored,  and  that  she 
was  eager  to  assume  a  commanding  position,  she  began 
to  take  more  than  passing  thought  of  the  attentions  of  Mr. 
(Lyons.  That  he  was  interested  by  her  there  could  be  no 
doubt,  for  he  plainly  went  out  of  his  way  to  seek  her  so- 
ciety, calling  at  the  house  from  time  to  time,  and  exercising 
a  useful,  nattering  superintendence  over  her  lecture  course 
in  the  other  cities  of  the  State,  in  each  of  which  he  appeared 
to  have  friends  on  the  newspaper  press  who  put  agree- 
able notices  in  print  concerning  her  performance.  She 
312 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

had  returned  to  Benham  believing  that  her  married  life 
was  over;  that  her  hea'rt  was  in  the  grave  with  Wilbur,  and 
that  she  would  never  again  part  with  her  independence. 
The  notice  which  Mr.  Lyons  had  taken  of  her  from  the 
outset  had  gratified  her,  but  though  she  contrasted  his 
physical  energy  with  Wilbur's  lack  of  vigor,  it  had  not 
occurred  to  her  to  consider  him  in  the  light  of  a  possible 
husband.  Now  that  a  year  had  passed  since  Wilbur's 
death,  she  felt  conscious  once  more,  as  had  happened 
after  her  divorce,  of  the  need  of  a  closer  and  more  indi- 
vidual sympathy  than  any  at  her  command.  Her  rela- 
tions with  Mr.  Parsons,  to  be  sure,  approximated  those 
of  father  and  daughter,  but  his  perceptions  were  much 
less  acute  than  before  his  seizure ;  he  talked  little  and 
ceased  to  take  a  vital  interest  in  current  affairs.  She 
felt  the  lack  of  companionship  and,  also,  of  personal 
devotion,  such  personal  devotion  as  was  afforded  by 
the  strenuous,  ardent  allegiance  of  a  man.  On  the 
other  hand  she  was  firmly  resolved  never  to  allow  the 
current  of  her  own  life  to  be  turned  away  again  by  the 
subordination  of  her  purposes  to  those  of  any  other  per- 
son, and  she  had  believed  that  this  resolution  would  keep 
her  indifferent  to  marriage,  in  spite  of  any  sensations  of 
loneliness  or  craving  for  masculine  idolatry.  But  as  a 
widow  of  a  year's  standing  she  was  now  suddenly  inter- 
ested by  the  thought  that  this  solid,  ambitious,  smooth- 
talking  man  might  possibly  satisfy  her  natural  prefer- 
ence for  a  mate  without  violating  her  individuality. 
She  began  to  ask  herself  if  he  were  not  truly  congenial 
in  a  sense  which  no  man  had  ever  been  to  her  before ; 
also,  to  ask  if  their  aspirations  and  aims  were  not  so 
nearly  identical  that  he  would  be  certain  as  her  husband 
to  be  proud  of  everything  she  did  and  said,  and  to 
313 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

allow  her  to  work  hand  in  hand  with  him  for  the 
furtherance  of  their  common  purpose.  She  did  not  put 
these  questions  to  herself  until  his  conduct  suggested 
that  he  was  seeking  her  society  as  a  suitor  ;  but  having 
put  them,  she  was  pleased  to  find  her  heart  throb  with 
the  hope  of  a  stimulating  and  dear  discovery. 

Certain  causes  contributed  to  convince  her  that  this 
hope  rested  on  a  sure  foundation — causes  associated 
with  her  present  life  and  point  of  view.  She  felt  con- 
fident first  of  all  of  the  godliness  of  Mr.  Lyons  as  indi- 
cated not  only  by  his  sober,  successful  life,  and  his 
enthusiastic,  benignant  patriotism,  but  by  his  active, 
reverent  interest  in  the  affairs  of  his  church — the 
Methodist  Church — to  which  Mr.  Parsons  belonged, 
and  which  Selma  had  begun  to  attend  since  her  return 
to  Benham.  It  had  been  her  mother's  faith,  and  she 
had  felt  a  certain  filial  glow  in  approaching  it,  which 
had  been  fanned  into  pious  flame  by  the  effect  of  the 
ministration.  The  fervent  hymns  and  the  opportuni- 
ties for  bearing  testimony  at  some  of  the  services 
appealed  to  her  needs  and  gave  her  a  sense  of  oneness 
with  eternal  truth,  which  had  hitherto  been  lacking 
from  her  religious  experience.  In  judging  Wilbur  she 
was  disposed  to  ascribe  the  defects  of  his  character 
largely  to  the  coldness  and  analyzing  sobriety  of  his 
creed.  She  had  accompanied  him  to  church  listlessly, 
and  had  been  bored  by  the  unemotional  appeals  to  con- 
science and  quiet  subjective  designations  of  duty.  She 
preferred  to  thrill  with  the  intensity  of  words  which 
now  roundly  rated  sin,  now  passionately  called  to  mind 
the  ransom  of  the  Saviour,  and  ever  kept  prominent  the 
stirring  mission  of  evangelizing  ignorant  foreign  people. 
It  appeared  probable  to  Selma  that,  as  the  wife  of  one 
314 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

of  the  leading  church-members,  who  was  the  chairman 
of  the  local  committee  charged  with  spreading  the 
gospel  abroad,  her  capacity  for  doing  good  would  be 
strengthened,  and  the  spiritual  availability  of  them  both 
be  enhanced. 

Then,  too,  Mr.  Lyons's  political  prospects  were  flat- 
tering. The  thought  that  a  marriage  with  him  would 
put  her  in  a  position  to  control  the  social  tendencies  of 
Benham  was  alluring.  As  the  wife  of  Hon.  James  0. 
Lyons,  Member  of  Congress,  she  believed  that  she  would 
be  able  to  look  down  on  and  confound  those  who  had 
given  her  the  cold  shoulder.  What  would  Flossy  say 
when  she  heard  it?  What  would  Pauline  ?  This  was 
a  form  of  distinction  which  would  put  her  beyond  the 
reach  of  conspiracy  and  exclusiveness ;  for,  as  the  wife 
of  a  representative,  selected  by  the  people  to  guard  their 
interests  and  make  their  laws,  would  not  her  social 
position  be  unassailable  ?  And  apart  from  these  con- 
siderations, a  political  future  seemed  to  her  peculiarly 
attractive.  Was  not  this  the  real  opportunity  for  which 
she  had  been  waiting  ?  Would  she  be  justified  in  giving 
it  up?  In  what  better  way  could  her  talents  be  spent 
than  as  the  helpmate  and  intellectual  companion  of  a 
public  man — a  statesman  devoted  to  the  protection  and 
development  of  American  ideas?  Her  own  individuality 
need  not,  would  not  be  repressed.  She  had  seen  enough 
of  Mr.  Lyons  to  feel  sure  that  their  views  on  the  great 
questions  of  life  were  thoroughly  in  harmony.  They 
held  the  same  religious  opinions.  Who  could  foretell 
the  limit  of  their  joint  progress  ?  He  was  still  a  young 
man — strong,  dignified,  and  patriotic — endowed  with 
qualities  which  fitted  him  for  public  service.  It  might 
well  be  that  a  brilliant  future  was  before  him — before 
315 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

them,  if  she  were  his  wife.  If  he  were  to  become  promi- 
Dent  in  the  councils  of  the  nation— Speaker  of  the 
House — Governor — even  President,  within  the  bounds 
of  possibility,  what  a  splendid  congenial  scope  his 
honors  would  afford  her  own  versatility  !  As  day  by 
day  she  dwelt  on  these  points  of  recommendation, 
Seluia  became  more  and  more  disposed  to  smile  on  the 
aspirations  of  Mr.  Lyons  in  regard  to  herself,  and  to 
feel  that  her  life  would  develop  to  the  best  advantage  by 
a  union  with  him.  Until  the  words  asking  her  to  be 
his  wife  were  definitely  spoken  she  could  not  be  positive 
of  his  intentions,  but  his  conduct  left  little  room  for 
doubt,  and  moreover,  was  marked  by  a  deferential  sober- 
ness of  purpose  which  indicated  to  her  that  his  views 
regarding  marriage  were  on  a  higher  plane  than  those 
of  any  man  she  had  known.  He  referred  frequently  to 
the  home  as  the  foundation  on  which  American  civili- 
zation rested,  and  from  which  its  inspiration  was  largely 
derived,  and  spoke  feelingly  of  the  value  to  a  public 
man  of  a  stimulating  and  dignifying  fireside.  It 
became  his  habit  to  join  her  after  morning  service  and 
to  accompany  her  home,  carrying  her  hymn-books,  and 
he  sent  her  from  time  to  time,  through  the  post,  quota- 
tions which  had  especially  struck  his  fancy  from  the 
speeches  he  was  collecting  for  his  "  Watchwords  of 
Patriotism." 

Another  six  months  passed,  and  at  its  close  Lyons 
received  the  expected  nomination  for  Congress.  The 
election  promised  to  be  close  and  exciting.  Both  parties 
were  confident  of  victory,  and  were  preparing  vigorously 
to  keep  their  adherents  at  fever  pitch  by  rallies  and 
torch-light  processions.  Although  the  result  of  the 
caucus  was  not  doubtful,  it  was  understood  between 
316 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Lyons  and  Selma  that  he  would  call  at  the  house  that 
evening  to  let  her  know  that  he  had  been  successful. 
She  was  waiting  to  receive  him  in  the  library.  Mr. 
Parsons  had  gone  to  bed.  His  condition  was  not  prom- 
ising. He  had  recently  suffered  another  slight  attack 
of  paralysis,  which  seemed  to  indicate  that  he  was  liable 
at  any  time  to  a  fatal  seizure. 

Lyons  entered  smilingly.  "So  far  so  good,"  he 
exclaimed. 

"  Then  you  have  won  ?  " 

<l  Oh,  yes.  As  I  told  you,  it  was  a  foregone  con- 
clusion. Now  the  fight  begins/* 

Selma,  who  had  provided  a  slight  refection,  handed 
him  a  cup  of  tea.  "  I  feel  sure  that  you  will  be  chosen/' 
she  said.  "See  if  I  am  not  right.  When  is  the 
election  ?" 

"In  six  weeks.     Six  weeks  from  to-morrow." 

"Then  you  will  go  to  Washington  to  live  ?" 

"  Not  until  the  fourth  of  March." 

"  I  envy  you.  If  I  were  a  man  I  should  prefer  success 
in  politics  to  anything  else." 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  he  said,  "  Will 
you  help  me  to  achieve  success  ?  Will  you  go  with  me 
to  Washington  as  my  wife  ?  " 

His  courtship  had  been  formal  and  elaborate,  but  his 
declaration  was  signally  simple  and  to  the  point.  Selma 
noticed  that  the  cup  in  his  hand  trembled.  While  she 
kept  her  eyes  lowered,  as  women  are  supposed  to  do  at 
such  moments,  she  was  wondering  whether  she  loved 
him  as  much  as  she  had  loved  Wilbur  ?  Not  so  ardently, 
but  more  worthily,  she  concluded,  for  he  seemed  to  her 
to  fulfil  her  maturer  ideal  of  strong  and  effective  man- 
hood, and  to  satisfy  alike  her  self-respect  and  her 
317 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

physical  fancy.  A  man  of  his  type  would  not  split  hairs, 
but  proceed  straight  toward  the  goal  of  his  ambition 
without  fainting  or  wavering.  Why  should  she  not 
satisfy  her  renewed  craving  to  be  yoked  to  a  kindred 
spirit  and  companion  who  appreciated  her  true  worth  ? 

"I  cannot  believe/' he  was  saying,  "  that  my  words 
are  a  surprise  to  you.  You  can  scarcely  have  failed  to 
understand  that  I  admired  you  extremely.  I  have 
delayed  to  utter  my  desire  to  make  you  my  wife  because 
I  did  not  dare  to  cherish  too  fondly  the  hope  that  the 
love  inspired  in  me  could  be  reciprocated,  and  that  you 
would  consent  to  unite  your  life  to  mine  and  trust  your 
happiness  to  my  keeping.  If  I  may  say  so,  we  are  no 
boy  and  girl.  We  understand  the  solemn  significance 
of  marriage  ;  what  it  imports  and  what  it  demands.  Of 
late  I  have  ventured  to  dream  that  the  sympathy  in 
ideas  and  identity  of  purpose  which  exist  between  us 
might  be  the  trustworthy  sign  of  a  spiritual  bond  which 
we  could  not  afford  to  ignore.  I  feel  that  without  you 
the  joy  and  power  of  my  life  will  be  incomplete.  With 
you  at  my  side  I  shall  aspire  to  great  things.  You  are 
to  me  the  embodiment  of  what  is  charming  and  service- 
able in  woman." 

Selma  looked  up.  "  I  like  yon  very  much,  Mr.  Lyons. 
You,  in  your  turn,  must  have  realized  that,  I  think.  As 
you  say,  we  are  no  boy  and  girl.  You  meant  by  that, 
too,  that  we  both  have  been  married  before.  I  have  had 
two  husbands,  and  I  did  not  believe  that  I  could  ever 
think  of  marriage  again.  I  don't  wish  you  to  suppose 
that  my  last  marriage  was  not  happy.  Mr.  Littleton 
was  an  earnest,  talented  man,  and  devoted  to  me.  Yet 
I  cannot  deny  that  in  spite  of  mutual  love  our  married 
life  was  not  a  success — a  success  as  a  contribution  to 
318 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

accomplishment.  That  nearly  broke  my  heart,  and  he— 
he  died  from  lack  of  the  physical  and  mental  vigor  which 
would  have  made  so  much  difference.  I  am  telling  you 
this  because  I  wish  yon  to  realize  that  if  I  should  con- 
sent to  comply  with  your  wishes,  it  would  be  because  I 
was  convinced  that  true  accomplishment — the  highest 
accomplishment — would  result  from  the  union  of  our 
lives  as  the  result  of  our  riper  experience.  If  I  did  not 
believe,  Mr.  Lyons,  th&t  man  and  woman  as  we  are — no 
longer  boy  and  girl — a  more  perfect  scheme  of  happiness, 
a  grander  conception  of  the  meaning  of  life  than  either 
of  us  had  entertained  was  before  us,  I  would  not  con- 
sider your  offer  for  one  moment." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  understand,"  Lyons  exclaimed  eagerly. 
"  I  share  your  belief  implicitly.  It  was  what  I  would 
have  said  only " 

Despite  his  facility  as  an  orator,  Lyons  left  this  sen- 
tence incomplete  in  face  of  the  ticklish  difficulty  of 
explaining  that  he  had  refrained  from  suggesting  such 
a  hope  to  a  widow  who  had  lost  her  husband  only  two 
years  before.  Yet  he  hastened  to  bridge  over  this 
ellipsis  by  saying,  "  Without  such  a  faith  a  union 
between  us  must  fall  short  of  its  sweetest  and  grandest 
opportunities." 

"  It  would  be  a  mockery  ;  there  would  be  no  excuse 
for  its  existence,"  cried  Selma  impetuously.  "  I  am  an 
idealist,  Mr.  Lyons,"  she  said  clasping  her  hands.  "  I 
believe  devotedly  in  the  mission  and  power  of  love. 
But  I  believe  that  our  conception  of  love  changes  as  we 
grow.  I  welcomed  love  formerly  as  an  intoxicating, 
delirious  potion,  and  as  such  it  was  very  sweet.  You 
have  just  told  me  of  your  own  feelings  toward  me,  so  it 
,'s  your  right  to  know  that  lately  I  have  begun  to  realize 
319 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

that  my  association  with  yon  has  brought  peace  into  my 
life — peace  and  religions  faith — essentials  of  happiness 
of  which  I  have  not  known  the  blessings  since  I  was  a 
child.  You  have  dedicated  yourself  to  a  lofty  work  ; 
you  have  chosen  the  noble  career  of  a  statesman — a 
statesman  zealous  to  promote  principles  in  which  we 
both  believe.  And  you  ask  me  to  share  with  yon  the 
labors  and  the  privileges  which  will  result  from  this 
dedication.  If  I  accept  your  offer,  it  must  be  because  I 
know  that  I  love  you— love  you  in  a  sense  I  have  not 
loved  before — may  the  dead  pardon  me  !  If  I  accept 
you  it  will  be  because  I  wish  to  perpetuate  that  faith 
and  peace,  and  because  I  believe  that  our  joint  lives  will 
realize  worthy  accomplishment."  Selma  looked  into 
space  with  her  wrapt  gaze,  apparently  engaged  in  an 
intense  mental  struggle. 

"  And  you  will  accept  ?  You  do  feel  that  you  can 
return  my  love  ?  I  cannot  tell  you  how  greatly  I  am 
stirred  and  stimulated  by  what  you  have  said.  It  makes 
me  feel  that  I  could  never  be  happy  without  you." 
Lyons  put  into  this  speech  all  his  solemnity  and  all  his 
emotional  beneficence  of  temperament.  He  was  genuine- 
ly moved.  His  first  marriage  had  been  a  love  match. 
His  wife — a  mere  girl— had  died  within  a  year  ;  so  soon 
that  the  memory  of  her  was  a  tender  but  hazy  sentiment 
rather  than  a  formulated  impression  of  character.  By 
virtue  of  this  memory  he  had  approached  marriage  again 
as  one  seeking  a  companion  for  his  fireside,  and  a  come- 
ly, sensible  woman  to  preside  over  his  establishment  and 
promote  his  social  status,  rather  than  one  expecting  to 
be  possessed  by  or  to  inspire  a  dominant  passion. 
Yet  he,  too,  regarded  himself  distinctly  as  an  idealist, 
and  he  had  lent  a  greedy  ear  to  Selma's  suggestion  that 
320 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

mature  mutual  sympathy  and  comradeship  in  establish 
ing  convictions  and  religious  aims  were  the  source  of  a 
nobler  type  of  love  than  that  associated  with  early  matri- 
mony. It  increased  his  admiration  for  her,  and  gave  to 
his  courtship,  the  touch  of  idealism  which — partly  owing 
to  his  own  modesty  as  a  man  no  longer  in  the  flush  of 
youth — it  had  lacked.  He  nervously  stroked  his  beard 
with  his  thick  hand,  and  gave  himself  up  to  the  spell 
of  this  vision  of  blessedness  while  he  eagerly  watched 
Selma's  face  and  waited  for  her  answer.  To  combine 
moral  purpose  and  love  in  a  pervasive  alliance  appealed 
to  him  magnetically  as  a  religious  man. 

Selma,  as  she  faced  Lyons,  was  conscious  necessarily 
of  the  contrast  between  him  and  her  late  husband.  But 
she  was  attuned  to  regard  his  coarser  physical  fibre  as 
masculine  vigor  and  a  protest  against  aristocratic  deli- 
cacy, and  to  derive  comfort  and  exaltation  from  it. 

"  Mr.  Lyons,"  she  said,  "  I  will  tell  you  frankly  that 
the  circumstances  of  married  life  have  hitherto  hampered 
the  expression  of  that  which  is  in  me,  and  confined  the 
scope  of  my  individuality  within  narrow  and  uncon- 
genial limits.  I  am  not  complaining  ;  I  have  no  inten- 
tion to  rake  up  the  past ;  but  it  is  proper  you  should 
know  that  I  believe  myself  capable  of  larger  undertak- 
ings than  have  yet  been  afforded  me,  and  worthy  of 
ampler  recognition  than  I  have  yet  received.  If  I  ac- 
cept you  as  a  husband,  it  will  be  because  I  feel  confident 
that  you  will  give  my  life  the  opportunity  to  expand, 
and  that  you  sympathize  with  my  desire  to  express  my- 
self adequately  and  to  labor  hand  in  hand,  side  by 
side,  with  you  in  the  important  work  of  the  world." 

"  That  is  what  I  would  have  you  do,  Selma.     Because 
you  are  worthy  of  it,  and  because  it  is  your  right/' 
321 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"  On  that  understanding  it  seems  that  we  might  be 
very  happy/' 

"  I  am  certain  of  it.  Yon  fill  my  soul  with  glad- 
ness/' he  cried,  and  seizing  her  hand  he  pressed  it  to  his 
lips  and  covered  it  with  kisses,  but  she  withdrew  it, 
saying,  "  Not  yet — not  yet.  This  step  represents  so 
much  to  me.  It  means  that  if  I  am  mistaken  in  you, 
my  whole  life  will  be  mined,  for  the  next  years  should 
be  my  best.  We  must  not  be  too  hasty.  There  are 
many  things  to  be  thought  of.  I  must  consider  Mr. 
Parsons.  I  cannot  leave  him  immediately,  if  at  all,  for 
he  is  very  dependent  on  me." 

"  I  had  thought  of  that.  While  Mr.  Parsons  lives, 
I  'ealize  that  your  first  duty  must  be  to  him." 

The  reverential  gravity  of  his  tone  was  in  excess  of 
the  needs  of  the  occasion,  and  Selma  understood  that  he 
intended  to  imply  that  Mr.  Parsons  would  not  long 
need  her  care.  The  same  thought  was  in  her  own  mind, 
and  it  had  occurred  to  her  in  the  course  of  her  previous 
cogitations  in  regard  to  Lyons,  that  in  the  event  of  his 
death  it  would  suit  her  admirably  to  continue  to  occupy 
the  house  as  its  real  mistress.  She  looked  grave  for  a 
moment  in  her  turn,  then  with  a  sudden  access  of  coy- 
ness she  murmured,  "  I  do  not  believe  that  I  am  mis- 
taken in  you." 

"  Ah,"  he  cried,  and  would  have  folded  her  in  his 
arms,  but  she  evaded  his  onset  and  said  with  her  dra- 
matic intonation,  "  The  knights  of  old  won  their  lady- 
loves by  brilliant  deeds.  If  you  are  elected  a  member 
of  Congress,  you  may  come  to  claim  me." 

Reflection  served  only  to  convince  Selma  of  the  wis- 
dom of  her  decision  to  try  matrimony  once  more.  She 
argued,  that  though  a  third  marriage  might  theoretically 


UNLEAVENED  BKEAD 

seem  repugnant  if  stated  as  a  bald  fact,  the  actual 
circumstances  in  her  case  not  merely  exonerated  her 
from  a  lack  of  delicacy,  but  afforded  an  exhibition  of 
progress — a  gradual  evolution  in  character.  She  felt 
light-hearted  and  triumphant  at  the  thought  of  her 
impending  new  importance  as  the  wife  of  a  public  man, 
and  she  interested  herself  exuberantly  in  the  progress 
of  the  political  campaign.  She  was  pleased  to  think 
that  her  stipulation  had  given  her  lover  a  new  spur  to 
his  ambition,  and  she  was  prepared  to  believe  that  his 
victory  would  be  due  to  the  exhaustive  efforts  to  win 
which  the  cruel  possibility  of  losing  her  obliged  him  to 
make. 

This  was  a  campaign  era  of  torch-light  processions. 
The  rival  factions  expressed  their  confidence  and  en- 
thusiasm by  parading  at  night  in  a  series  of  battalions 
armed  with  torches — some  respleudently  flaring,  some 
glittering  gayly  through  colored  glass — and  bearing 
transparencies  inscribed  with  trenchant  sentiments. 
The  houses  of  their  adherents  along  the  route  were 
illuminated  from  attic  to  cellar  with  rows  of  candles, 
and  the  atmosphere  wore  a  dusky  glow  of  red  and  green 
fire.  To  Selma  all  this  was  entrancing.  She  revelled 
in  it  as  an  introduction  to  the  more  conspicuous  life 
which  she  was  about  to  lead.  She  showed  herself  a 
zealous  and  enthusiastic  partisan,  shrouding  the  house 
in  the  darkness  of  Erebus  on  the  occasion  when  the 
rival  procession  passed  the  door,  and  imparting  to  every 
window  the  effect  of  a  blaze  of  light  on  the  following 
evening — the  night  before  election — when  the  Demo- 
cratic party  made  its  final  appeal  to  the  voters.  Stand- 
ing on  a  balcony  in  evening  dress,  in  company  with 
Mrs.  Earle  and  Miss  Luella  Bailey,  whom  she  had  in- 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

vited  to  view  the  procession  from  the  River  Drive, 
Selma  looked  down  on  the  parade  in  an  ecstatic  mood. 
The  torches,  the  music,  the  fireworks  and  the  enthusi- 
asm set  her  pulses  astir  and  brought  her  heart  into  her 
mouth  in  melting  appreciation  of  the  sanctity  of  her 
party  cause  and  her  own  3nviable  destiny  as  the  wife  of 
an  American  Congressman.  She  held  in  one  hand  a 
flag  which  she  waved  from  time  to  time  at  the  conspicu- 
ous features  of  the  procession,  and  she  stationed  herself 
so  that  the  Bengal  lights  and  other  fireworks  set  off  by 
Mr.  Parsons's  hired  man  should  throw  her  figure  into 
conspicuous  relief.  The  culminating  interest  of  the 
occasion  for  her  was  reached  when  the  James  0.  Lyons 
Owlets,  the  special  body  of  youthful  torch-bearers  de- 
voted to  advertising  the  merits  of  her  lover,  for  whose 
uniforms  and  accoutrements  he  had  paid,  came  in  sight. 
They  proved  to  be  the  most  flourishing  looking  or- 
ganization in  line.  They  were  preceded  by  a  large, 
nattily  attired  drum  corps ;  their  ranks  were  full,  their 
torches  lustrous,  and  they  bore  a  number  of  transparen- 
cies setting  forth  the  predominant  qualifications  of  the 
candidate  for  Congress  from  the  second  district,  the 
largest  of  which  presented  his  portrait  superscribed  with 
the  sentiment,  "A  vote  for  James  0.  Lyons  is  a  vote  in 
support  of  the  liberties  of  the  plain  people."  On  the 
opposite  end  of  the  canvas  was  the  picture  of  the  king 
of  beasts,  with  open  jaws  and  bristling  mane,  with  the 
motto,  "  Our  Lyons's  might  will  keep  our  institutions 
sacred."  In  the  midst  of  this  glittering  escort  the  can- 
didate himself  rode  in  an  open  barouche  on  his  way  to 
the  hall  where  he  was  to  deliver  a  final  speech.  He  was 
bowing  to  right  and  left,  and  constant  cheers  marked 
his  progress  along  the  avenue.  Selma  leaned  forward 
324 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

from  the  balcony  to  obtain  the  earliest  sight  of  her  hero. 
The  rolling  applause  was  a  new,  intoxicating  music  in 
her  ears,  and  filled  her  soul  with  transport.  She  clapped 
her  hands  vehemently  ;  seized  a  roman-candle,  and  amid 
a  blaze  of  fiery  sparks  exploded  its  colored  stars  in  the 
direction  of  the  approaching  carriage.  Then  with  the 
flag  slanted  across  her  bosom,  she  stood  waiting  for  his 
recognition.  It  was  made  solemnly,  but  with  the  un- 
equivocal demonstration  of  a  cavalier  or  knight  of  old, 
for  Lyons  stood  up,  and  doffing  his  hat  toward  her, 
made  a  conspicuous  salute.  A  salvo  of  applause  sug- 
gested to  Selma  that  the  multitude  had  understood  that 
he  was  according  to  her  the  homage  due  a  lady-love,  and 
that  their  cheers  were  partly  meant  for  her.  She  put 
her  hand  to  her  bosom  with  the  gesture  of  a  queen  of 
melodrama,  and  culling  one  from  a  bunch  of  roses  Lyons 
had  sent  her  that  afternoon  threw  it  from  the  balcony 
at  the  carriage.  The  flower  fell  almost  into  the  lap  of 
her  lover,  who  clutched  it,  pressed  it  to  his  lips,  and 
doffed  his  hat  again.  The  episode  had  been  visible  to 
many,  and  a  hoarse  murmur  of  interested  approval 
crowned  the  performance.  The  glance  of  the  crowds 
on  the  sidewalk  was  turned  upward,  and  someone  pro- 
posed three  cheers  for  the  lady  in  the  balcony.  They 
were  given.  Selma  bowed  to  either  side  in  delighted 
acknowledgment,  while  the  torches  of  the  cadets  waved 
tumultously,  and  there  was  a  fresh  outburst  of  colored 
fires. 

"  I  can't  keep  the  secret  any  longer,"  she  exclaimed, 
turning  to  her  two  companions.  "  I'm  engaged  to  be 
married  to  Mr.  Lyons." 


325 


CHAPTER  V. 

LYONS  was  chosen  to  Congress  by  a  liberal  margin. 
The  Congressional  delegation  from  his  State  was  almost 
evenly  divided  between  the  two  parties  as  the  result  of 
the  election,  and  the  majorities  in  every  case  were  small. 
Consequently  the  more  complete  victory  of  Lyons  was  a 
feather  in  his  cap,  and  materially  enhanced  his  political 
standing. 

The  sudden  death  of  Mr.  Parsons  within  a  week  of 
the  election  saved  Selma's  conscience  from  the  strain  of 
arranging  a  harmonious  and  equitable  separation  from 
him.  She  had  felt  that  the  enlargement  of  her  sphere  of 
life  and  the  opportunity  to  serve  her  country  which  this 
marriage  offered  were  paramount  to  any  other  consider- 
ations, but  she  was  duly  conscious  that  Mr.  Parsons 
would  miss  her  sorely,  and  she  was  considering  the  feasi- 
bility of  substituting  Miss  Bailey  as  his  companion  in 
her  place,  when  fate  supplied  a  different  solution. 
Selma  had  pledged  her  friends  to  secrecy,  so  that  Mr. 
Parsons  need  know  nothing  until  the  plans  for  his  hap- 
piness had  been  perfected,  and  he  died  in  ignorance  of 
the  interesting  matrimonial  alliance  which  had  been 
fostered  under  his  roof.  By  the  terms  of  his  will  Selma 
was  bequeathed  the  twenty  thousand  dollars  he  had 
promised  her.  She  and  Mr.  Lyons,  with  a  third  per- 
son, to  be  selected  by  them,  were  appointed  trustees  of 
the  Free  Hospital  with  which  he  had  endowed  Benham, 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

and  Mr.  Lyons  was  nominated  as  the  sole  executor  un- 
der the  will. 

Selma's  conception  that  her  third  betrothal  was  co- 
incident with  spiritual  development,  and  that  she  had 
fought  her  way  through  hampering  circumstances  to  a 
higher  plane  of  experience,  had  taken  firm  hold  of  her 
imagination.  She  presently  confessed  to  Lyons  that 
she  had  not  hitherto  appreciated  the  full  meaning  of 
the  dogma  that  marriage  was  a  sacrament.  She  evinced 
a  disposition  to  show  herself  with  him  at  church  gath- 
erings, and  to  cultivate  the  acquaintance  of  his  pastor. 
She  felt  that  she  had  finally  secured  the  opportunity  to 
live  the  sober,  simple  life  appropriate  to  those  who  be- 
lieved  in  maintaining  American  principles,  and  in  es- 
chewing luxurious  and  effete  foreign  innovations ;  the 
sort  of  life  she  had  always  meant  to  live,  and  from  which 
she  had  been  debarred.  She  had  now  not  only  oppor- 
tunity, but  a  responsibility.  As  the  bride  of  a  Congress- 
man, it  behooved  her  both  to  pursue  virtue  for  its  own 
sake  and  for  the  sake  of  example.  It  was  incumbent  on 
her  to  preserve  and  promote  democratic  conditions  in 
signal  opposition  to  so-called  fashionable  society,  and  at 
the  same  time  to  assert  her  own  proper  dignity  and  the 
dignity  of  her  constituents  by  a  suitable  outward  show. 

This  last  subtlety  of  reflection  convinced  Selma  that 
they  ought  to  occupy  the  house  on  the  River  Drive. 
Lyons  himself  expressed  some  doubts  as  to  the  advisa- 
bility of  this.  He  admitted  that  he  could  afford  the 
expense,  and  that  it  was  just  such  a  residence  as  he 
desired,  but  he  suggested  that  their  motives  might  not 
be  understood,  and  he  questioned  whether  it  were  wise, 
with  the  State  so  close,  to  give  his  political  enemies  the 
chance  to  make  unjust  accusations. 
327 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

"  Of  course  yon  ought  to  understand  about  this  matter 
better  than  I,"  she  said ;  "  but  I  have  the  feeling,  James, 
that  your  constituents  will  be  disappointed  if  we  don't 
show  ourselves  appreciative  of  the  dignity  of  your  posi- 
tion. We  both  agree  that  we  should  make  Benham  our 
home,  and  that  it  will  be  preferable  if  I  visit  Washington 
a  month  or  two  at  a  time  during  the  session  rather  than 
for  us  to  set  up  housekeeping  there,  and  I  can't  help  be- 
lieving that  the  people  will  be  better  pleased  if  you,  as 
their  representative,  make  that  home  all  which  a  beau- 
tiful home  should  be.  They  will  be  proud  of  it,  and  if 
they  are,  you  needn't  mind  what  a  few  fault-finders  say. 
I  have  been  thinking  it  over,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  we 
shall  make  a  mistake  to  let  this  house  go.  It  just  suits 
us.  I  feel  sure  that  in  their  hearts  the  American  people 
like  to  have  their  public  men  live  comfortably.  This 
house  is  small  compared  to  many  in  New  York,  and  I 
natter  myself  that  we  shall  be  able  to  satisfy  everyone 
that  we  are  rootedly  opposed  to  unseemly  extravagance 
of  living." 

Lyons  yielded  readily  to  this  argument.  He  had  been 
accustomed  to  simple  surroundings,  but  travel  and  the 
growth  of  Benham  itself  had  demonstrated  to  him  that 
the  ways  of  the  nation  in  respect  to  material  possessions 
and  comforts  had  undergone  a  marked  change  since  his 
youth.  He  had  been  brought  in  contact  with  this  new 
development  in  his  capacity  of  adviser  to  the  magnates 
of  Benham,  and  he  had  fallen  under  the  spell  of  im- 
proved creature  comforts.  Still,  though  he  cast  sheep's 
eyes  at  these  flesh  pots,  he  had  felt  chary,  both  as  a 
worker  for  righteousness  and  an  ardent  champion  of 
popular  principles,  of  countenancing  them  openly.  Yet 
hia  original  impulse  toward  marriage  had  been  a  desire 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

to  secure  an  establishment,  and  now  that  this  result  was 
at  hand  he  found  himself  ambitious  to  put  his  house- 
hold on  a  braver  footing,  provided  this  would  do  injury 
neither  to  his  moral  scruples  nor  to  his  political  sincerity. 
The  problem  was  but  another  phase  of  that  presented 
to  him  by  his  evolution  from  a  jury  lawyer,  whose  hand 
and  voice  were  against  corporations,  to  the  status  of  a 
richly  paid  chamber  adviser  to  railroads  and  banking 
houses.  He  was  exactly  in  the  frame  of  mind  to  grasp 
at  the  euphemism  offered  by  Selma.  He  was  not  one  to 
be  convinced  without  a  reason,  but  his  mind  eagerly 
welcomed  a  suggestion  which  justified  on  a  moral  ground 
the  proceeding  to  which  they  were  both  inclined.  The 
idea  that  the  people  would  prefer  to  see  him  as  their 
representative  living  in  a  style  consistent  with  the 
changes  in  manners  and  customs  introduced  by  national 
prosperity,  affording  thereby  an  example  of  correct  and 
elevating  stewardship  of  reasonable  wealth,  by  way  of 
contrast  to  vapid  society  doings,  came  to  him  as  an 
illumination  which  dissipated  his  doubts. 

The  wedding  took  place  about  three  months  after  the 
death  of  Mr.  Parsons.  In  her  renovated  outlook  regard- 
ing matrimony,  Selma  included  formal  preparations  for 
and  some  pomp  of  circumstances  at  the  ceremony.  It 
suited  her  pious  mood  that  she  was  not  required  again 
to  be  married  off-hand,  and  that  she  could  plight  her 
troth  in  a  decorous  fashion,  suitably  attired  and  amid 
conventional  surroundings.  Her  dress  was  a  subject  of 
considerable  contemplation.  She  guided  her  lover's 
generosity  until  it  centred  on  a  diamond  spray  for  her 
hair  and  two  rings  set  with  handsome  precious  stones. 
She  did  not  discourage  Miss  Luella  Bailey  from  herald- 
ing the  approaching  nuptials  in  the  press.  She  became 
329 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

Mrs.  Lyons  in  a  conspicuous  and  solemn  fashion  before 
the  gaze  of  everybody  in  Benham  whom  there  was  any 
excuse  for  asking  to  the  church.  After  a  collation  at 
the  Parsons  house,  the  happy  pair  started  on  their 
honeymoon  in  a  special  car  put  at  their  service  by  one 
of  the  railroads  for  which  the  bridegroom  was  counsel. 
This  feature  delighted  Selma.  Indeed,  everything,  from 
the  complimentary  embrace  of  her  husband's  pastor  to 
the  details  of  her  dress  and  wedding  presents,  described 
with  elaborate  good  will  in  the  evening  newspapers, 
appeared  to  her  gratifying  and  appropriate. 

They  were  absent  six  weeks,  during  which  the  Par- 
sons house  was  to  be  redecorated  and  embellished 
within  and  without  according  to  instructions  given  by 
Selma  before  her  departure.  Their  trip  extended  to 
California  by  way  of  the  Yoseinite.  Selma  had  never 
seen  the  wonders  of  the  far  western  scenery,  and  this 
appropriate  background  for  their  sentiment  also  af- 
forded Lyons  the  opportunity  to  inspect  certain  railroad 
lines  in  which  he  was  financially  interested.  The  at- 
mosphere of  the  gorgeous  snow-clad  peaks  and  impres- 
sive chasms  served  to  heighten  still  further  the  intensity 
of  Selma's  frame  of  mind.  She  managed  adroitly  on 
several  occasions  to  let  people  know  who  they  were,  and 
it  pleased  her  to  observe  the  conductor  indicating  to 
passengers  in  the  common  cars  that  they  were  Con- 
gressman Lyons  and  his  wife  on  their  honeymoon.  She 
was  looking  forward  to  Washington,  and  as  she  stood  in 
the  presence  of  the  inspiring  beauties  of  nature  she  was 
prone  to  draw  herself  up  in  rehearsal  of  the  dignity 
which  she  expected  to  wear.  What  were  these  moun- 
tains and  canyons  but  physical  counterparts  of  the  human 
soul  ?  What  but  correlative  representatives  of  grand 
330 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

ideas,  of  noble  lives  devoted  to  the  cause  of  human  lib- 
erty ?  She  felt  that  she  was  very  happy,  and  she  bore 
testimony  to  this  by  walking  arm  in  arm  with  her  hus- 
band, leaning  against  his  firm,  stalwart  shoulder.  It 
seemed  to  her  desirable  that  the  public  should  know 
that  they  were  a  happy  couple  and  defenders  of  the 
purity  of  the  home.  On  their  way  back  the  train  was 
delayed  on  Washington's  birthday  for  several  hours  by  a 
wash-out,  and  presently  a  deputation  made  up  of  pas- 
sengers and  townspeople  waited  on  Lyons  and  invited 
him  to  deliver  an  open-air  address.  He  and  Selma, 
when  the  committee  arrived,  were  just  about  to  explore 
the  neighborhood,  and  Lyons,  though  ordinarily  he 
would  have  been  glad  of  such  an  opportunity,  looked  at 
his  wife  with  an  expression  which  suggested  that  he 
would  prefer  a  walk  with  her.  The  eyes  of  the  com- 
mittee followed  his,  appreciating  that  he  had  thrown 
the  responsibility  of  a  decision  on  his  bride.  Selma 
was  equal  to  the  occasion.  "Of  course  he  will  address 
you,"  she  exclaimed.  "  What  more  suitable  place 
could  there  be  for  offering  homage  to  the  father  of  our 
country  than  this  majestic  prairie  ? "  She  added, 
proudly,  "  And  I  am  glad  you  should  have  the  oppor- 
tunity to  hear  my  husband  speak." 

Some  letters  requiring  attention  were  forwarded  to 
Lyons  at  one  of  the  cities  where  they  stopped.  As  they 
lay  on  his  dressing-table  Selma  caught  sight  of  the 
return  address,  Williams  &  Van  Home,  printed  on  the 
uppermost  envelope.  The  reminder  aroused  a  host  of 
associations.  Flossy  had  not  been  much  in  her  thoughts 
lately,  yet  she  had  not  failed  to  plume  herself  occasion- 
ally with  the  reflection  that  she  could  afford  now  to 
snap  her  fingers  at  her.  She  had  wondered  more  than 
331 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

once  what  Flossy  would  think  when  she  heard  that  she 
was  the  wife  of  a  Representative. 

"  Do  you  know  these  people  personally  ? "  she  in- 
quired, holding  up  the  envelope. 

"Yes.  They  are  my — er — financial  representatives 
in  New  York.  I  have  considerable  dealings  with 
them." 

Selma  had  not  up  to  this  time  concerned  herself  as 
to  the  details  of  her  husband's  affairs.  He  had  made 
clear  to  her  that  his  income  from  his  profession  was 
large,  and  she  knew  that  he  was  interested  in  a  variety 
of  enterprises.  That  he  should  have  connections  with 
a  firm  of  New  York  brokers  was  one  more  proof  to  her 
of  his  common  sense  and  capacity  to  take  advantage  of 
opportunities. 

"  Mr.  Littleton  used  to  buy  stocks  through  Williams 
and  Van  Home — only  a  few.  He  was  not  very  clever 
at  it,  and  failed  to  make  the  most  of  the  chances  given 
him  to  succeed  in  that  way.  We  knew  the  Williamses 
at  one  time  very  well.  They  lived  in  the  same  block 
with  us  for  several  years  after  we  were  married." 

"  Williams  is  a  capable,  driving  sort  of  fellow.  Bold, 
but  on  the  whole  sagacious,  I  think,"  answered  Lyons, 
with  demure  urbanity.  It  was  rather  a  shock  to  him 
that  his  wife  should  learn  that  he  had  dealings  in  the 
stock  market.  He  feared  lest  it  might  seem  to  her 
inconsistent  with  his  other  propensities — his  religious 
convictions  and  his  abhorrence  of  corporate  rapacity. 
He  preferred  to  keep  such  transactions  private  for  fear 
they  should  be  misunderstood.  At  heart  he  did  not 
altogether  approve  of  them  himself.  They  were  a  part 
of  his  evolution,  and  had  developed  by  degrees  until 
they  had  become  now  so  interwoven  with  his  whole 
332 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

financial  outlook  that  he  could  not  escape  from  them  at 
the  moment  if  he  would.  Indeed  some  of  them  were 
giving  him  anxiety.  He  had  supposed  that  the  letter 
in  question  contained  a  request  for  a  remittance  to 
cover  depreciation  in  his  account.  Instead  he  had  read 
with  some  annoyance  a  confidential  request  from  Will- 
iams that  he  would  work  for  a  certain  bill  which,  in  his 
capacity  as  a  foe  of  monopoly,  he  had  hoped  to  be  able 
to  oppose.  It  offended  his  conscience  to  think  that  he 
might  be  obliged  secretly  to  befriend  a  measure  against 
which  his  vote  must  be  cast.  As  has  been  intimated, 
he  would  have  preferred  that  his  business  affairs  should 
remain  concealed  from  his  wife.  Yet  her  remarks  were 
unexpectedly  and  agreeably  reassuring.  They  served  to 
furnish  a  fresh  indication  on  her  part  of  intelligent 
sympathy  with  the  perplexities  which  beset  the  path  of 
an  ambitious  public  man.  They  suggested  a  subtle 
appreciation  of  the  reasonableness  of  his  behavior,  not- 
withstanding its  apparent  failure  to  tally  with  his  out- 
ward professions. 

Selma's  reply  interrupted  this  rhapsody. 

"  I  ought  to  tell  you,  I  suppose,  that  I  quarrelled 
with  Mrs.  Williams  before  I  left  New  York.  Or,  rather, 
she  quarrelled  with  me.  She  insulted  me  in  my  own 
house,  and  I  was  obliged  to  order  her  to  leave  it." 

"  Quarrelled  ?  That  is  a  pity.  An  open  break  ?  Open 
breaks  in  friendship  are  always  unfortunate."  Lyons 
looked  grieved,  and  fingered  his  beard  meditatively. 

"  I  appreciate,"  said  Selma,  frankly,  "  that  our  fall- 
ing out  will  be  an  inconvenience  in  case  we  should  meet 
in  Washington  or  elsewhere,  since  you  and  Mr.  Williams 
have  business  interests  in  common.  Of  course,  James,  I 
wish  to  help  you  in  every  way  I  can.  I  might  as  well 
333 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

tell  you  about  it.  I  think  she  was  jealous  of  me  and 
fancied  I  was  trying  to  cut  her  out  socially.  At  all 
events,  she  insinuated  that  I  was  not  a  lady,  because— 
er— because  I  would  not  lower  my  standards  to  hers,  and 
adopt  the  frivolous  habits  of  her  little  set.  But  I  have 
not  forgotten,  James,  your  suggestion  that  people  in 
public  life  can  accomplish  more  if  they  avoid  showing 
resentment  and  strive  for  harmony.  I  shall  be  ready 
to  forget  the  past  if  Mrs.  Williams  will,  for  my  position 
as  your  wife  puts  me  beyond  the  reach  of  her  criticism. 
She's  a  lively  little  thing  in  her  way,  and  her  husband 
seems  to  understand  about  investments  and  how  to  get 
ahead." 

They  went  direct  to  Washington  without  stopping  at 
Benham.  It  was  understood  that  the  new  session  of 
Congress  was  to  be  very  short,  and  they  were  glad  of  an 
opportunity  to  present  themselves  in  an  official  capacity 
at  the  capital  as  a  conclusion  to  their  honeymoon,  be- 
fore settling  down  at  home.  Selma  found  a  letter  from 
Miss  Bailey,  containing  the  news  that  Pauline  Littleton 
had  accepted  the  presidency  of  Wetmore  College,  the 
buildings  of  which  were  now  practically  completed. 
Selma  gasped  as  she  read  this.  She  had  long  ago  de- 
cided that  her  sister-in-law's  studies  were  unpractical, 
and  that  Pauline  was  doomed  to  teach  small  classes  all 
her  days,  a  task  for  which  she  was  doubtless  well  fitted. 
She  resented  the  selection,  for,  in  her  opinion,  Pauline 
lacked  the  imaginative  talent  of  Wilbur,  and  yet  shared 
his  subjective,  unenthusiastic  ways.  More  than  once 
it  had  occurred  to  her  that  the  presidency  of  Wetmore 
was  the  place  of  all  others  for  which  she  herself  was 
fitted.  Indeed,  until  Lyons  had  offered  himself  she 
had  cherished  in  her  inner  consciousness  the  hope  that 
334 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

the  course  of  events  might  demonstrate  that  she  was  the 
proper  person  to  direct  the  energies  of  this  new  medium 
for  the  higher  education  of  women.  It  irritated  her  to 
think  that  an  institution  founded  by  Benham  philan- 
thropy, and  which  would  be  a  vital  influence  in  the  de- 
velopment of  Benham  womanhood,  should  be  under  the 
control  of  one  who  was  hostile  to  American  theories 
and  methods.  Selma  felt  so  strongly  on  the  subject  that 
she  thought  of  airing  her  objections  in  a  letter  to  Mr. 
Flagg,  the  donor,  but  she  concluded  to  suspend  her 
strictures  until  her  return  to  Benham.  She  sent,  how- 
ever, to  Miss  Bailey,  who  was  now  regularly  attached 
to  one  of  the  Benham  newspapers,  notes  for  an  article 
which  should  deplore  the  choice  by  the  trustees  of  one 
who  was  unfamiliar  and  presumably  out  of  sympathy 
with  Benham  thought  and  impulse. 

Selma's  emotions  on  her  arrival  in  Washington  were 
very  different  from  those  which  she  had  experienced  in 
New  York  as  the  bride  of  Littleton.  Then  she  had 
been  unprepared  for,  dazed,  and  offended  by  what  she 
saw.  Now,  though  she  mentally  assumed  that  the  cap- 
ital was  the  parade  ground  of  American  ideas  and  prin- 
ciples, she  felt  not  merely  no  surprise  at  the  august 
appearance  of  the  wide  avenues,  but  she  was  eagerly  on 
the  lookout,  as  they  drove  from  the  station  to  the  hotel, 
for  signs  of  social  development.  The  aphorism  which 
she  had  supplied  to  her  husband,  that  the  American 
people  prefer  to  have  their  representatives  live  com- 
fortably, dwelt  in  her  thoughts  and  was  a  solace  to  her. 
Despite  her  New  York  experience,  she  had  the  impres- 
sion that  the  doors  of  every  house  in  Washington  would 
fly  open  at  her  approach  as  the  wife  of  a  Congressman. 
She  did  not  formulate  her  anticipations  as  to  her  re- 
335 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

ception,  but  she  entertained  a  general  expectation  that 
their  presence  would  be  acknowledged  as  public  officials 
in  a  notable  way.  She  dressed  herself  on  the  morning 
after  their  arrival  at  the  hotel  with  some  showiness, 
BO  as  to  be  prepared  for  flattering  emergencies.  She 
had  said  little  to  her  husband  on  the  subject,  for  she 
had  already  discovered  that,  though  he  was  ambitious 
that  they  should  appear  well,  he  was  disposed  to  leave 
the  management  of  social  concerns  to  her.  His  in- 
formation had  been  limited  to  bidding  her  come  pre- 
pared for  the  reception  to  be  given  at  the  White  House 
at  the  reassembling  of  Congress.  Selma  had  brought 
her  wedding-dress  for  this,  and  was  looking  forward  to 
it  as  a  gala  occasion. 

The  hotel  was  very  crowded,  and  Selma  became  aware 
that  many  of  the  guests  were  the  wives  and  daughters 
of  other  Congressmen,  who  seemed  to  be  in  the  same 
predicament  as  herself — that  is,  without  anyone  to  speak 
to  and  waiting  in  their  best  clothes  for  something  to 
happen.  Lyons  knew  a  few  of  them,  and  was  making 
acquaintances  in  the  corridors,  with  some  of  whom  he 
exchanged  an  introduction  of  wives.  As  she  successive- 
ly met  these  other  women,  Selma  perceived  that  no  one 
of  them  was  better  dressed  than  herself,  and  she  re- 
flected with  pleasure  that  they  would  doubtless  be  avail- 
able allies  in  her  crusade  against  frivolity  and  exclusive- 
ness. 

Presently  she  set  out  with  her  husband  to  survey  the 
sights  of  the  city.  Naturally  their  first  visit  was  to  the 
Capitol,  in  the  presence  of  which  Selma  clutched  his 
arm  in  the  pride  of  her  patriotism  and  of  her  pleasure 
that  he  was  to  be  one  of  the  makers  of  history  within  its 
splendid  precincts.  The  sight  of  the  stately  houses  of 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Congress,  superbly  dominated  by  their  imposing  dome, 
made  them  both  walk  proudly,  lost,  save  for  occasional 
vivid  phrases  of  admiration,  in  the  contemplation  of 
their  own  possible  future.  What  greater  earthly  prize 
for  man  than  political  distinction  among  a  people  capa- 
ble of  monuments  like  this  ?  What  grander  arena  for 
a  woman  eager  to  demonstrate  truth  and  promote 
righteousness  ?  There  was,  of  course,  too  much  to  see 
for  any  one  visit.  They  went  up  to  the  gallery  of  the 
House  of  Representatives  and  looked  down  on  the  thea- 
tre of  Lyons's  impending  activities.  He  was  to  take  his 
seat  on  the  day  after  the  morrow  as  one  of  the  minority 
party,  but  a  strong,  vigorous  minority.  Selma  pictured 
him  standing  in  the  aisle  and  uttering  ringing  words 
of  denunciation  against  corporate  monopolies  and  the 
money  power. 

"  I  shall  come  up  here  and  listen  to  you  often.  I  shall 
be  able  to  tell  if  you  speak  loud  enough — so  that  the 
public  can  hear  you,"  she  said,  glancing  at  the  line  of 
galleries  which  she  saw  in  her  mind's  eye  crowded  with 
spectators.  You  must  make  a  long  speech  very  soon/' 

"  That  is  very  unlikely  indeed.  They  tell  me  a  new 
member  rarely  gets  a  chance  to  be  heard,"  answered 
Lyons. 

"  But  they  will  hear  you.  You  have  something  to 
say." 

Lyons  squeezed  her  hand.  Her  words  nourished  the 
same  hope  in  his  own  breast.  "  I  shall  take  advantage 
of  every  opportunity  to  obtain  recognition,  and  to  give 
utterance  to  my  opinions." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  shall  expect  you  to  speak.  I  am  counting 
on  that." 

On  their  way  down  they  scanned  with  interest  tee 
337 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

statues  and  portraits  of  distinguished  statesmen  and 
heroes,  and  the  representations  of  famous  episodes  in 
American  history  with  which  the  walls  of  the  landings 
and  the  rotunda  are  lined. 

"  Some  day  you  will  be  here,"  said  Selma.  "I  won- 
der who  will  paint  you  or  make  your  bust.  I  have  often 
thought,"  she  added,  wistfully,  "  that,  if  I  had  given 
my  mind  to  it,  I  could  have  modelled  well  in  clay. 
Some  day  I'll  try.  It  would  be  interesting,  wouldn't  it, 
to  have  you  here  in  marble  with  the  inscription  under- 
neath, '  Bust  of  the  Honorable  James  0.  Lyons,  sculpt- 
ured by  his  wife  ?' " 

Lyons  laughed,  but  he  was  pleased.  "  You  are  mak- 
ing rapid  strides,  my  dear.  I  am  sure  of  one  thing — if 
my  bust  or  portrait  ever  is  here,  I  shall  owe  my  success 
largely  to  your  devotion  and  good  sense.  I  felt  certain 
of  it  before,  but  our  honeymoon  has  proved  to  me  that 
we  were  meant  for  one  another." 

"  Yes,  I  think  we  were.  And  I  like  to  hear  you  say 
I  have  good  sense.  That  is  what  I  pride  myself  on  as  a 
wife." 

On  their  return  to  the  hotel  Selma  was  annoyed  to 
find  that  no  one  but  a  member  of  her  husband's  Con- 
gressional delegation  had  called.  She  had  hoped  to  find 
that  their  presence  in  Washington  was  known  and  ap- 
preciated. It  seemed  to  her,  moreover,  that  they  were 
not  treated  at  the  hotel  with  the  deference  she  had  sup- 
posed would  be  accorded  to  them.  To  be  sure,  equality 
was  of  the  essence  of  American  doctrine  ;  nevertheless 
she  had  anticipated  that  the  official  representatives  of 
the  people  would  be  made  much  of,  and  distinguished 
from  the  rest  of  the  world,  if  not  by  direct  attention,  by 
being  pointed  out  and  looked  at  admiringly.  Still,  as 
338 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

Lyons  showed  no  signs  of  disappointment,  she  forbore 
to  express  her  own  perplexity,  which  was  temporarily 
relieved  by  an  invitation  from  him  to  drive.  The  at- 
mosphere was  mild  enough  for  an  open  carriage,  and 
Selma's  appetite  for  processional  effect  derived  some 
crumbs  of  comfort  from  the  process  of  showing  herself 
in  a  barouche  by  the  side  of  her  husband.  They  pro- 
ceeded in  an  opposite  direction  from  the  Capitol,  and 
after  surveying  the  outside  of  the  White  House,  drove 
along  the  avenues  and  circles  occupied  by  private  resi- 
dences. Selma  noticed  that  these  houses,  though  at- 
tractive, were  less  magnificent  and  conspicuous  than 
many  of  those  in  New  York — more  like  her  own  in  Ben- 
ham  ;  and  she  pictured  as  their  occupants  the  families 
of  the  public  men  of  the  country — a  society  of  their 
wives  and  daughters  living  worthily,  energetically,  and 
with  becoming  stateliness,  yet  at  the  same  time  rebuk- 
ing by  their  example  frivolity  and  rampant  luxury. 
She  observed  with  satisfaction  the  passage  of  a  number 
of  private  carriages,  and  that  their  occupants  were  sty- 
lishly clad.  She  reflected  that,  as  the  wife  of  a  Con- 
gressman, her  place  was  among  them,  and  she  was  glad 
that  they  recognized  the  claims  of  social  development 
so  far  as  to  dress  well  and  live  in  comfort.  Before  start- 
ing she  had  herself  fastened  a  bunch  of  red  roses  at  her 
waist  as  a  contribution  to  her  picturesqueness  as  a  pub- 
lic woman. 

While  she  was  thus  absorbed  in  speculation,  not  alto- 
gether free  from  worrying  suspicions,  in  spite  of  her 
mental  vision  as  to  the  occupants  of  these  private  resi- 
dences, she  uttered  an  ejaculation  of  surprise  as  a  jaunty 
victoria  passed  by  them,  and  she  turned  her  head  in  an 
eager  attempt  to  ascertain  if  her  surprise  and  annoyance 
339 


UNLEAVENED  BKEAD 

were  well-founded.  The  other  vehicle  was  moving  rap- 
idly, but  a  similar  curiosity  impelled  one  of  its  occu- 
pants to  look  back  also,  and  the  eyes  of  the  two  women 
met 

"  If  s  she  ;  I  thought  it  was." 

"Who,  my  dear  ?"  said  Lyons. 

"  Flossy  Williams— Mrs.  Gregory  Williams.  I  won- 
der," she  added,  in  a  severe  tone,  "  what  she  is  doing 
here,  and  how  she  happens  to  be  associating  with  these 
people.  That  was  a  private  carriage," 

"Williams  has  a  number  of  friends  in  Washington,  I 
imagine.  I  thought  it  likely  that  he  would  be  here. 
That  was  another  proof  of  your  good  sense,  Selma — de- 
ciding to  let  bygones  be  bygones  and  to  ignore  your  dis- 
agreement with  his  wife." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  I  shall  treat  her  civilly.  But  my 
heart  will  be  broken,  James,  if  I  find  that  Washington 
is  like  Xew  York." 

"  In  what  respect  ?" 

"  If  I  find  that  the  people  in  these  houses  lead  exclu- 
sive, un-American,  godless  lives.  It  would  tempt  me 
almost  to  despair  of  our  country,"  she  exclaimed,  with 
tragic  emphasis. 

"  I  don't  understand  about  social  matters,  Selma.  I 
must  leave  those  to  you.  But*"  he  added,  showing  that 
he  shrewdly  realised  the  cause  of  her  anguish  better 
than  she  did  herself,  "as  soon  as  we  get  better  ac- 
quainted, I'm  sure  you  wffl  find  that  we  shall  get  ahead, 
and  that  you  wfll  be  able  to  hold  your  own  with  any- 
body, however  exclusive," 

Selma  colored  at  the  unflattering  simplicity  of  his  de- 
daction.     "  I  don't  desire  to  hold  my  own  with  people 
•f  that  sort    I  despise  them." 
340 


UNLEAYEXED  BBEAD 

"  I  know.  Hold  your  own,  I  mean,  among  people  of 
the  right  sort  by  force  of  sound  ideas  and  principles. 
The  men  and  women  of  to-day,"  he  continued,  with 
melodious  asseveration,  "  are  the  grand-children  of  those 
who  built  the  splendid  balls  we  visited  this  morning  as 
a  monument  to  our  nation's  lore  of  truth  and  righteous- 
ness. A  few  frivolous,  worldly  minded  spirits  are  not 
the  people  of  the  United  States  to  whom  we  look  for 
our  encouragement  and  support." 

"  Assuredly,"  answered  Selma,  with  eagerness.  "  It 
is  difficult,  though,  not  to  get  discouraged  at  times  by 
the  behavior  of  those  who  ought  to  aid  instead  of  hin- 
der our  progress  as  a  nation." 

For  a  moment  she  was  silent  in  wrapt  meditation, 
then  she  asked  : 

"  Didn't  you  expect  that  more  notice  would  be  taken 
of  our  arrival  ? " 

"  In  what  way  ?" 

"  In  some  way  befitting  a  member  of  Congreat" 

Lyons  laughed.  "My  dear  Selma,  I  am  one  new 
Congressman  among  several  hundred.  What  did  you 
erpect  ?  That  the  President  and  his  wife  would  come 
and  take  us  to  drive  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not"  She  paused  a  moment,  then  she 
said  :  "  I  suppose  that,  as  you  are  not  on  the  side  of  the 
administration,  we  cannot  erpect  much  notice  to  be 
taken  of  us  until  you  speak  in  the  House.  I  will  try 
not  to  be  too  ambitious  for  you,  James ;  but  it  would  be 
easier  to  be  patient,"  she  concluded,  with  her  far-away 
look,  "  if  I  were  not  beginning  to  fear  that  this  city 
also  may  be  contaminated  just  as  Xew  York  is," 


341 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  incidents  of  the  next  two  days  previous  to  her 
attendance  at  the  evening  reception  at  the  White  House 
restored  Selma's  equanimity.  She  had  the  satisfaction 
of  being  present  at  the  opening  ceremonies  of  the  House 
of  Representatives,  and  of  beholding  her  husband  take 
the  oath  of  office.  She  was  proud  of  Lyons  as  she 
looked  down  on  him  from  the  gallery  standing  in  the 
aisle  by  his  allotted  seat.  He  was  holding  an  improvised 
reception,  for  a  number  of  his  colleagues  showed  them- 
selves desirous  to  make  his  acquaintance.  She  noticed 
that  he  appeared  already  on  familiar  terms  with  some 
of  his  fellow-members ;  that  he  drew  men  or  was  drawn 
aside  for  whispered  confidences ;  that  he  joked  know- 
ingly with  others  ;  and  that  always  as  he  chatted  his 
large,  round,  smooth  face,  relieved  by  its  chin  beard, 
wore  an  aspect  of  bland  dignity  and  shrewd  reserve 
wisdom.  It  pleased  her  to  be  assisting  at  the  dedication 
of  a  fresh  page  of  national  history — a  page  yet  un- 
written, but  on  which  she  hoped  that  her  own  name 
wonld  be  inscribed  sooner  or  later  by  those  who  should 
seek  to  trace  the  complete  causes  of  her  husband's  use- 
fulness and  genius. 

Another  source  of  satisfaction  was  the  visit  paid  them 

the  day  before  at  the  hotel  by  one  of  the  United  States 

Senators  from  their  own  State— Mr.  Calkins.     The  two 

political  parties    in   their  own   State  were  so  evenly 

342 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

divided  that  one  of  the  Senators  in  office  happened  to 
be  a  Republican  and  his  colleague  a  Democrat.  Mr. 
Calkins  belonged  to  her  husband's  party,  yet  he  sug- 
gested that  they  might  enjoy  a  private  audience  with  the 
President,  with  whom,  notwithstanding  political  differ- 
ences of  opinion,  Mr.  Calkins  was  on  friendly  terms. 
This  was  the  sort  of  thing  which  Selma  aspired  to,  and 
the  experience  did  much  to  lighten  her  heart.  She 
enjoyed  the  distinction  of  seeing  guarded  doors  open  at 
their  approach,  and  of  finding  herself  shaking  hands 
with  the  chief  magistrate  of  the  nation  at  a  special  inter- 
view. The  President  was  very  affable,  and  was  mani- 
festly aware  of  Lyons's  triumph  at  the  expense  of  his 
own  party,  and  of  his  consequent  political  importance. 
He  treated  the  matter  banteringly,  and  Selma  was 
pleased  at  her  ability  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  his 
persiflage  and  to  reciprocate.  In  her  opinion  solemnity 
would  have  been  more  consistent  with  his  position  as 
the  official  representative  of  the  people  of  the  United 
States,  and  his  jocose  manifestations  at  a  time  when 
serious  conversation  seemed  to  be  in  order  was  a  dis- 
appointment, and  tended  to  confirm  her  previous  dis- 
trust of  him  as  the  leader  of  the  opposite  party.  She 
had  hoped  he  would  broach  some  vital  topics  of  politi- 
cal interest,  and  that  she  would  have  the  opportunity 
to  give  expression  to  her  own  views  in  regard  to  public 
questions.  Nevertheless,  as  the  President  saw  fit  to  be 
humorous,  she  was  glad  that  she  understood  how  to 
meet  and  answer  his  bantering  sallies.  She  felt  sure 
that  Lyons,  were  he  ever  to  occupy  this  dignified  office, 
tfould  refrain  from  ill-timed  levity,  but  she  bore  in 
mind  also  the  policy  of  conciliation  which  she  had 
learned  from  her  husband,  and  concealed  her  true 
343 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

impressions.  She  noticed  that  both  Lyons  and  Mr. 
Calkins  forebore  to  show  dissatisfaction,  and  she  re- 
flected that,  though  the  President's  tone  was  light, 
there  was  nothing  else  in  his  appearance  or  bearing 
to  convict  him  of  sympathy  with  lack  of  enthusiasm 
and  with  cynicism.  It  would  have  destroyed  all  the 
enjoyment  of  her  interview  had  she  been  forced  to 
conclude  that  a  man  who  did  not  take  himself  and  his 
duties  seriously  could  be  elected  President  of  the  United 
States.  She  was  not  willing  to  believe  this ;  but  her 
suspicions  were  so  far  aroused  that  she  congratulated 
herself  that  her  political  opponents  were  responsible  for 
his  election.  Nevertheless  she  was  delighted  by  the 
distinction  of  the  private  audience,  and  by  the  episode 
at  its  close,  which  gave  her  opportunity  to  show  her 
individuality.  Said  the  President  gallantly  as  she  was 
taking  leave  : 

"Will  you  permit  me  to  congratulate  Congressman 
Lyons  on  his  good  fortune  in  the  affairs  of  the  heart  as 
well  as  in  politics  ?  " 

"  If  you  say  things  like  that,  Mr.  President/'  inter- 
jected  Lyons,  "  you  will  turn  her  head ;  she  will 
become  a  Republican,  and  then  where  should  I  be  ?" 

While  she  perceived  that  the  President  was  still 
inclined  to  levity,  the  compliment  pleased  Selma.  Yet, 
though  she  appreciated  that  her  husband  was  merely 
humoring  him  by  his  reply,  she  did  not  like  the  sug- 
gestion that  any  flattery  could  affect  her  principles. 
She  shook  her  head  coquettishly  and  said  : 

"James,  I'm  sure  the  President  thinks  too  well  of 
American  women  to  believe  that  any  admiration,  how- 
ever gratifying,  would  make  me  lukewarm  in  devotion 
to  my  party." 

344 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

This  speech  appeared  to  her  apposite  and  called  for, 
and  she  departed  in  high  spirits,  which  were  illuminated 
by  the  thought  that  the  administration  was  not  wholly 
to  be  trusted. 

On  the  following  evening  Selma  went  to  the  recep- 
tion at  the  White  House.  The  process  of  arrival  was 
trying  to  her  patience,  for  they  were  obliged  to  await 
their  turn  in  the  long  file  of  carriages.  She  could  not 
but  approve  of  the  democratic  character  of  the  enter- 
tainment, which  anyone  who  desired  to  behold  and 
shake  hands  with  the  Chief  Magistrate  was  free  to 
attend.  Still,  it  again  crossed  her  mind  that,  as  an 
official's  wife,  she  ought  to  have  been  given  precedence. 
Their  turn  to  alight  came  at  last,  and  they  took  their 
places  in  the  procession  of  visitors  on  its  way  through 
the  East  room  to  the  spot  where  the  President  and  his 
wife,  assisted  by  some  of  the  ladies  of  the  Cabinet,  were 
submitting  to  the  ordeal  of  receiving  the  nation. 
There  was  a  veritable  crush,  in  which  there  was  every 
variety  of  evening  toilette,  a  display  essentially  in  keep- 
ing with  the  doctrines  which  Selma  felt  that  she  stood 
for.  She  took  occasion  to  rejoice  in  Lyons's  ear  at  the 
realization  of  her  anticipations  in  this  respect.  At  the 
same  time  she  was  agreeably  stimulated  by  the  belief 
that  her  wedding  dress  was  sumptuous  and  stylish,  and 
her  appearance  striking.  Her  hair  had  been  dressed  as 
elaborately  as  possible ;  she  wore  all  her  jewelry  ;  and 
she  carried  a  bouquet  of  costly  roses.  Her  wish  was  to 
regard  the  function  as  the  height  of  social  demonstra- 
tion, and  she  had  spared  no  pains  to  make  herself 
effective.  She  had  esteemed  it  her  duty  to  do  so  both 
as  a  Congressman's  wife  and  as  a  champion  of  moral 
and  democratic  ideas. 

345 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

The  crowd  was  oppressive,  and  three  times  the  train 
of  her  dress  was  stepped  on  to  her  discomfiture.  Amid 
the  sea  of  faces  she  recognized  a  few  of  the  people  she 
had  seen  at  the  hotel.  It  struck  her  that  no  one  of  the 
women  was  dressed  so  elegantly  as  herself,  an  observation 
which  cheered  her  and  yet  was  not  without  its  thorn. 
But  the  music,  the  lights,  and  the  variegated  movement 
of  the  scene  kept  her  senses  absorbed  and  interfered  with 
introspection,  until  at  last  they  were  close  to  the  receiv- 
ing party.  Selma  fixed  her  eyes  on  the  President, 
expecting  recognition.  Like  her  husband,  the  Presi- 
dent possessed  a  gift  of  faces  and  the  faculty  of  rallying 
all  his  energies  to  the  important  task  of  remembering 
who  people  were.  An  usher  asked  and  announced  the 
names,  but  the  Chief  Magistrate's  perceptions  were  kept 
hard  at  work.  His  "  How  do  yon  do,  Congressman 
Lyons  ?  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  here,  Mrs.  Lyons," 
were  uttered  with  a  smiling  spontaneity,  which  to  his 
own  soul  meant  a  momentary  agreeable  relaxation  of  the 
nerves  of  memory,  resembling  the  easy  flourish  with 
which  a  gymnast  engaged  in  lifting  heavy  weights 
encounters  a  wooden  dumb-bell.  But  though  his  eyes 
and  voice  were  flattering,  Selraa  had  barely  completed 
the  little  bob  of  a  courtesy  which  accompanied  her  act  of 
shaking  hands  when  she  discovered  that  the  machinery 
of  the  national  custom  was  not  to  halt  on  their  account, 
and  that  she  must  proceed  without  being  able  to  renew 
the  half  flirtatious  interview  of  the  previous  day.  She 
proceeded  to  courtesy  to  the  President's  wife  and  to  the 
row  of  wives  of  members  of  the  Cabinet  who  were  assist- 
ing. Before  she  could  adequately  observe  them,  she 
found  herself  beyond  and  a  part  once  more  of  a  hetero- 
geneous cnrh,  the  current  of  which  she  aimlessly  fol- 
346 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

lowed  on  her  husband's  arm.  She  was  suspicious  of  the 
device  of  courtesying.  Why  had  not  the  President's  wife 
and  the  Cabinet  ladies  shaken  hands  with  her  and  given 
her  an  opportunity  to  make  their  acquaintance  ?  Could 
it  be  that  the  administration  was  aping  foreign  manners 
and  adopting  effete  and  aristocratic  usages  ? 

"  What  do  we  do  now  ?  "  she  asked  of  Lyons  as  they 
drifted  along. 

"  Fd  like  to  find  Horace  Elton  and  introduce  him  to 
you.  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  him  further  on  just  before 
we  reached  the  President.  Horace  knows  all  the  ropes 
and  can  tell  us  who  everybody  is." 

Selrna  had  heard  her  husband  refer  to  Horace  Elton 
on  several  occasions  in  terms  of  respectful  and  somewhat 
mysterious  consideration.  She  had  gathered  in  a  general 
way  that  he  was  a  far  reaching  and  formidable  power  in 
matters  political  and  financial,  besides  being  the  presi- 
dent and  active  organizer  of  the  energetic  corporation 
known  as  the  Consumers'  Gas  Light  Company  of  their 
own  state.  As  they  proceeded  she  kept  her  eyes  on  the 
alert  for  a  man  described  by  Lyons  as  short,  heavily 
built,  and  neat  looking,  with  small  side  whiskers  and  a 
close-mouthed  expression.  When  they  were  not  far 
from  the  door  of  exit  from  the  East  room,  some  one  on 
the  edge  of  the  procession  accosted  her  husband,  who 
drew  her  after  him  in  that  direction.  Selma  found 
herself  in  a  sort  of  eddy  occupied  by  half  a  dozen  people 
engaged  in  observing  the  passing  show,  and  in  the  pres- 
ence of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gregory  Williams.  It  was  Mr. 
Williams  who  had  diverted  them.  He  now  renewed  his 
acquaintance  with  her,  exclaiming—"  My  wife  insisted 
that  she  had  met  you  driving  with  some  one  she 
believed  to  be  your  husband.  I  had  heard  that  Cou- 
347 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

gressman  Lyons  was  on  his  bridal  tour,  and  now  every- 
thing is  clear.  Flossy,  you  were  right  as  usual,  and  it 
seems  that  our  hearty  congratulations  are  in  order  to 
two  old  friends." 

Williams  spoke  with  his  customary  contagious  confi- 
dence. Selma  noted  that  he  was  stouter  and  that  his 
hair  was  becomingly  streaked  with  gray.  Had  not  her 
attention  been  on  the  lookout  for  his  wife  she  might 
have  noticed  that  his  eye  wore  a  restless,  strained  expres- 
sion despite  his  august  banker's  manner  and  showy 
gallantry.  She  did  observe  that  the  moment  he  had 
made  way  for  Flossy  he  turned  to  Lyons  and  began  to 
talk  to  him  in  a  subdued  tone  under  the  guise  of  watch- 
ing the  procession. 

The  two  women  confronted  each  other  with  spontane- 
ous forgetfulness  of  the  past  There  was  a  shade  of 
haughtiness  in  Selma's  greeting.  She  was  prepared  to 
respect  her  husband's  policy  and  to  ignore  the  circum- 
stances under  which  they  had  parted,  but  she  wished 
Flossy  to  understand  that  this  was  an  act  of  condescen- 
sion on  her  part  as  a  Congressman's  wife,  whose  important 
social  status  was  beyond  question.  She  was  so  thoroughly 
imbued  with  this  sense  of  her  indisputable  superiority 
that  she  readily  mistook  Flossy's  affability  for  fawning  ; 
whereas  that  young  woman's  ingenuous  friendliness  was 
the  result  of  a  warning  sentence  from  Gregory  when 
Selma  and  her  husband  were  seen  approaching — 
"  Keep  a  check  on  your  tongue,  Floss.  This  statesman 
with  a  beard  like  a  goat  is  likely  to  have  a  political 
future." 

"  I  felt  sure  it  was  you  the  other  day,"  Flossy  said 
with  smiling  sprightliness,  "but  I  had  not  heard  of 
your  marriage  to  Mr.  Lyons." 
348 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"  We  were  married  at  Benham  six  weeks  ago.  We 
are  to  live  in  Benham.  We  have  bought  the  house  there 
which  belonged  to  Mr.  Parsons.  We  have  just  returned 
from  visiting  the  superb  scenery  of  the  Yosemite  and  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  and  it  made  me  prouder  than  ever  of 
my  country.  If  Congressman  Lyons  had  not  been 
obliged  to  be  present  at  the  opening  of  Congress,  we 
should  have  spent  our  honeymoon  in  Europe." 

"  Gregory  and  I  passed  last  summer  abroad  yachting. 
We  crossed  on  a  steamer  and  had  our  yacht  meet  us 
there.  Isn't  it  a  jam  to-night  ?  " 

"  There  seem  to  be  a  great  many  people.  I  suppose 
you  came  on  from  New  York  on  purpose  for  this  recep- 
tion ?  " 

"  Mercy,  no.  We  are  staying  with  friends,  and  we 
hadn't  intended  to  come  to-night.  But  we  had  been 
dining  out  and  were  dressed,  so  we  thought  we'd  drop  in 
and  show  our  patriotism.  It's  destruction  to  clothes, 
and  I'm  glad  I  haven't  worn  my  best." 

Selma  perceived  Flossy's  eye  making  a  note  of  her  own 
elaborate  costume,  and  the  disagreeable  suspicion  that 
she  was  overdressed  reasserted  itself.  She  had  already 
observed  that  Mrs.  Williams's  toilette,  though  stylish, 
was  comparatively  simple.  How  could  one  be  overdressed 
on  such  an  occasion  ?  What  more  suitable  time  for  an 
American  woman  to  wear  her  choicest  apparel  than  when 
paying  her  respects  to  the  President  of  the  United 
States  ?  She  noticed  that  Flossy  seemed  unduly  at  her 
ease  as  though  the  importance  of  the  ceremony  was  lost 
on  her,  and  that  the  group  of  people  with  whom  Flossy 
had  been  talking  and  who  stood  a  little  apart  were  obvi- 
ously indulging  in  quiet  mirth  at  the  expense  of  some  of 
those  in  the  procession. 

349 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"Are  the  friends  with  whom  you  are  staying  con- 
nected with  the  Government  ?  "  Selma  asked  airily. 

"  Official  people  ?  Goodness,  no.  But  I  can  point 
out  to  you  who  everybody  is,  for  we  have  been  in  Wash- 
ington frequently  during  the  last  three  sessions.  Gregory 
has  to  run  over  here  on  business  every  now  and  then, 
and  I  almost  always  come  with  him.  To-night  is  the 
opportunity  to  see  the  queer  people  in  all  their  glory — 
the  woolly  curiosities,  as  Gregory  calls  them.  And  a 
sprinkling  of  the  real  celebrities  too,"  she  added. 

Selma's  inquiry  had  been  put  with  a  view  to  satisfy 
herself  that  Flossy's  friends  were  mere  civilians.  But 
she  was  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  be  enlightened  as  to  the 
names  of  her  fellow-officials,  though  she  resented  Flossy's 
flippant  tone  regarding  the  character  of  the  entertain- 
ment. While  she  listened  to  the  breezy,  running  com- 
mentary by  which  Flossy  proceeded  to  identify  for  her 
benefit  the  conspicuous  figures  in  the  procession  she 
nursed  her  offended  sensibilities. 

"  I  should  suppose,"  she  said,  taking  advantage  of  a 
pause,  "  that  on  such  an  occasion  as  this  everybody  worth 
knowing  would  be  present.*' 

Flossy  gave  Selma  one  of  her  quick  glances.  She  had 
not  forgotten  the  past,  nor  her  discovery  of  the  late  Mrs. 
Littleton's  real  grievance  against  her  and  the  world. 
Nor  did  she  consider  that  her  husband's  caveat  debarred 
her  from  the  amusement  of  worrying  the  wife  of  the 
Hon.  James  0.  Lyons,  provided  it  could  be  done  by 
means  of  the  truth  ingenuously  uttered.  She  said  with 
a  confidential  smile — 

"  The  important  and  the  interesting  political  people 
have  other  opportunities  to  meet  one  another— at  dinner 
parties  and  less  promiscuous  entertainments  than  this, 
350 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

and  the  Washington  people  have  other  opportunities  to 
meet  them.  Of  course  the  President  is  a  dear,  and  every 
one  makes  a  point  of  attending  a  public  reception  once 
in  a  while,  but  this  sort  of  thing  isn't  exactly  an  edify- 
ing society  event..  For  instance,  notice  the  woman  in 
the  pomegranate  velvet  with  two  diamond  sprays  in  her 
hair.  That's  the  wife  of  Senator  Colman — his  child 
wife,  so  they  call  her.  She  came  to  Washington  six 
years  ago  as  the  wife  of  a  member  of  the  House  from  one 
of  the  wild  and  woolly  States,  and  was  notorious  then  in 
the  hotel  corridors  on  account  of  her  ringletty  raven  hair 
and  the  profusion  of  rings  she  wore.  She  used  to  make 
eyes  at  the  hotel  guests  and  romp  with  her  husband's 
friends  in  the  hotel  parlors,  which  was  the  theatre  of  her 
social  activities.  Her  husband  died,  and  a  year  ago  she 
married  old  Senator  Colman,  old  enough  to  be  her 
grandfather,  and  one  of  the  very  rich  and  influential 
men  in  the  Senate.  Now  she  has  developed  social  am- 
bition and  is  anxious  to  entertain.  They  have  hired  a 
large  house  for  the  winter  and  are  building  a  larger  one. 
As  Mrs.  Polsen — that  was  her  first  husband's  name — 
she  was  invited  nowhere  except  to  wholesale  official 
functions  like  this.  The  wife  of  a  United  States  Senator 
with  plenty  of  money  can  generally  attract  a  following  ; 
she  is  somebody.  And  it  happens  that  people  are  amused 
by  Mrs.  Colman's  eccentricities.  She  still  overdresses, 
and  makes  eyes,  and  she  nudges  those  who  sit  next  her 
at  table,  but  she  is  good-natured,  says  whatever  comes 
into  her  head,  and  has  a  strong  sense  of  humor.  So  she 
is  getting  on." 

"  Getting  on  among  society  people  ? "  said  Selma 
drily. 

Flossy's  eyes  twinkled.  "Society  people  is  the 
351 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

generic  name  used  for  them  in  the  newspapers.  I  mean 
that  she  is  making  friends  among  the  women  who  live 
in  the  qnarter  where  I  passed  yon  the  other  day." 

Selma  frowned.  "  It  is  not  necessary,  I  imagine,  to 
make  friends  of  that  class  in  order  to  have  influence  in 
Washington,— the  best  kind  of  influence.  I  can  readily 
believe  that  people  of  that  sort  won  Id  interest  most  of 
onr  public  women  very  little." 

"Very  likely.  I  don't  think  you  quite  understand 
me,  Mrs.  Lyons,  or  we  are  talking  at  cross  purposes. 
What  I  was  trying  to  make  clear  is  that  political  and 
social  prominence  in  Washington  are  by  no  means  synoni- 
raous.  Of  course  everyone  connected  with  the  govern- 
ment who  desires  to  frequent  Washington  society  and  is 
socially  available  is  received  with  open  arms  ;  but,  if  peo- 
ple are  not  socially  available,  it  by  no  means  follows  that 
they  are  able  to  command  social  recognition  merely  be- 
cause they  hold  political  office, — except  perhaps  in  the 
case  of  wives  of  the  Cabinet,  of  the  Justices  of  the  Su- 
preme Court,  or  of  rich  and  influential  Senators,  where  a 
woman  is  absolutely  bent  on  success  and  takes  pains. 
I  refer  particularly  to  the  wives,  because  a  single  man, 
if  he  is  reasonably  presentable  and  ambitious,  can  go 
about  more  or  less,  even  if  he  is  a  little  rough,  for 
men  are  apt  to  be  scarce.  But  the  line  is  drawn  on 
the  women  unless  they  are — er — really  important  and 
have  to  be  tolerated  for  official  reasons.  Now  every 
woman  who  is  not  persona  grata,  as  the  diplomats  say, 
anywhere  else,  is  apt  to  attend  the  President's  reception 
in  all  her  finery,  and  that's  why  I  suggested  that  this 
sort  of  thing  isn't  exactly  an  edifying  social  event. 
It's  amusing  to  come  here  now  and  then,  just  as  it's 
amusing  to  go  to  a  menagerie.  You  see  what  I  mean, 
352 


UNLEAVENED  BKEAD 

don't  you  ?  "  Flossy  asked,  plying  her  feathery  fan  with 
blithe  nonchalance  and  looking  into  her  companion's 
face  with  an  innocent  air. 

"  I  understand  perfectly.  And  who  are  these  people 
who  draw  the  line  ?  " 

"It  sometimes  happens,"  continued  Flossy  abstrac- 
tedly, without  appearing  to  hear  this  inquiry,  "thai, 
they  improve  after  they've  been  in  Washington  a  few 
years.  Take  Mrs.  Baker,  the  Secretary  of  the  Interior's 
wife,  receiving  to-night.  When  her  husband  came  to 
Washington  three  years  ago  she  had  the  social  adapta- 
bility of  a  solemn  horse.  But  she  persevered  and 
learned,  and  now  as  a  Cabinet  lady  she  unbends,  and  is 
no  longer  afraid  of  compromising  her  dignity  by  wear- 
ing becoming  clothes  and  smiling  occasionally.  But 
you  were  asking  who  the  people  are  who  draw  the  line. 
The  nice  people  here  just  as  everywhere  else  ;  the 
people  who  have  been  well  educated  and  have  fine  sensi- 
bilities, and  who  believe  in  modesty,  and  unselfishness 
and  thorough  ways  of  doing  things.  You  must  know 
the  sort  of  people  I  mean.  Some  of  them  make  too 
much  of  mere  manners,  but  as  a  class  they  are  able 
to  draw  the  line  because  they  draw  it  in  favor  of  dis- 
tinction of  character  as  opposed  to— what  shall  I  call 
it  ?— haphazard  custom-made  ethics  and  social  deport- 
ment." 

Flossy  spoke  with  the  artless  prattle  of  one  seeking  to 
make  herself  agreeable  to  a  new-comer  by  explaining  the 
existing  order  of  things,  but  she  had  chosen  her  words 
as  she  proceeded  with  special  reference  to  her  listener's 
case.  There  was  nothing  in  her  manner  to  suggest  that 
she  was  trifling  with  the  feelings  of  the  wife  of  Hon. 
James  0.  Lyons,  but  to  Selma's  sensitive  ear  there  wag 
353 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

no  doubt  that  the  impertinent  and  unpatriotic  tirade 
had  been  deliberately  aimed  at  her.  The  closing  words 
had  a  disagreeably  familiar  sound.  Save  that  they  fell 
from  seemingly  friendly  lips  they  recalled  the  ban 
which  Flossy  had  hurled  at  her  at  the  close  of  their 
last  meeting — the  ban  which  had  decided  her  to 
declare  unwavering  hostility  against  social  excln- 
siveness.  Its  veiled  reiteration  now  made  her  nerves 
tingle,  but  the  personal  affront  stirred  her  less 
than  the  conclusion,  which  the  whole  of  Flossy's 
commentary  suggested,  that  Washington — Washington 
the  hearth-stone  of  American  ideals,  was  contaminated 
also.  Flossy  had  given  her  to  understand  that  the 
houses  which  she  had  assumed  to  be  occupied  by 
members  of  the  Government  were  chiefly  the  residences 
of  people  resembling  in  character  those  whom  she  had 
disapproved  of  in  New  York.  Flossy  had  intimated 
that  unless  a  woman  were  hand  in  glove  with  these  people 
and  ready  to  lower  herself  to  their  standards,  she  must 
be  the  wife  of  a  rich  Senator  to  be  tolerated.  Flossy 
had  virtually  told  her  that  a  Congressman's  wife  was 
nobody.  Could  this  be  true  ?  The  bitterest  part  of  all 
was  that  it  was  evident  Flossy  spoke  with  the  assurance 
of  one  uttering  familiar  truths.  Selma  felt  affronted 
and  bitterly  disappointed,  but  she  chose  to  meet  Mrs. 
Williams's  innocent  affability  with  composure  ;  to  let 
her  see  that  she  disagreed  with  her,  but  not  to  reveal 
her  personal  irritation.  She  must  consider  Lyons, 
whose  swift  political  promotion  was  necessary  for  her 
plans.  It  was  important  that  he  should  become  rich, 
and  if  his  relations  with  the  firm  of  Williams  &  Van 
Home  tended  to  that  end,  no  personal  grievance  of  her 
own  should  disturb  them.  Even  Flossy  had  conceded 
354 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

that  the  wives  of  the  highest  officials  could  not  be 
ignored. 

"  I  fear  that  we  look  at  these  matters  from  too  differ- 
ent a  standpoint  to  discuss  them  further,"  she  responded, 
with  an  effort  at  smiling  ease.  "  Evidently  you  do  not 
appreciate  that  to  the  majority  of  the  strong  women  of 
the  country  whose  husbands  have  been  sent  to  Washing- 
ton as  members  of  the  Government  social  interests  seem 
trivial  compared  with  the  great  public  questions  they 
are  required  to  consider.  These  women  doubtless  feel 
little  inclination  for  fashionable  and — er — frivolous  fes- 
tivities, and  find  an  occasion  like  this  better  suited  to 
their  conception  of  social  dignity." 

A  reply  by  Flossy  to  this  speech  was  prevented  by  the 
interruption  of  Lyons,  who  brought  up  Mr.  Horace 
Elton  for  introduction  to  his  wife.  Selma  knew  him  at 
once  from  his  likeness  to  the  description  which  her  hus- 
band had  given.  He  was  portly  and  thick-set,  with  a 
large  neck,  a  strong,  unemotional,  high-colored  face, 
and  closely-shaven,  small  side  whiskers.  He  made  her 
a  low  bow  and,  after  a  few  moments  of  conversation,  in 
the  course  of  which  he  let  fall  a  complimentary  allusion 
to  her  husband's  oratorical  abilities  and  gave  her  to 
understand  that  he  considered  Lyons's  marriage  as  a 
wise  and  enviable  proceeding,  he  invited  her  to  prome- 
nade the  room  on  his  arm.  Mr.  Elton  had  a  low  but 
clear  and  dispassionate  voice,  and  a  concise  utterance. 
His  remarks  gave  the  impression  that  he  could  impart 
more  on  any  subject  if  he  chose,  and  that  what  he  said 
proceeded  from  a  reserve  fund  of  special,  secret  knowl- 
edge, a  little  of  which  he  was  willing  to  confide  to  his 
listener.  He  enlightened  Selma  in  a  few  words  as  to  a 
variety  of  the  people  present,  accompanying  his  iden- 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

tification  with  a  phrase  or  two  of  comprehensive  per- 
sonal detail,  which  had  the  savor  of  being  unknown  to 
the  world  at  large. 

"  The  lady  we  just  passed,  Mrs.  Lyons,  is  the  wife  of 
the  junior  Senator  from  Nevada.  Her  husband  fell  in 
love  with  her  on  the  stage  of  a  mining  town  theatrical 
troupe.  That  tall  man,  with  the  profuse  wavy  hair  and 
prominent  nose,  is  Congressman  Ross  of  Colorado,  the 
owner  of  one  of  the  largest  cattle  ranches  in  the  Far 
West.  It  is  said  that  he  has  never  smoked,  never  tasted 
a  glass  of  liquor,  and  never  gambled  in  his  life." 

In  the  course  of  these  remarks  Mr.  Elton  simply 
stated  his  interesting  facts  without  comment.  He 
avoided  censorious  or  satirical  allusions  to  the  people 
to  whom  he  called  Selma's  attention.  On  the  contrary, 
his  observations  suggested  sympathetically  that  he  desired 
to  point  out  to  Her  the  interesting  personalities  of  the 
capital,  and  that  he  regarded  the  entertainment  as  an 
occasion  to  behold  the  strong  men  and  women  of  the 
country  in  their  lustre  and  dignity.  As  they  passed  the 
lady  in  pomegranate  velvet,  Selma  said,  in  her  turn, 
"  That  is  Mrs.  Colman,  I  believe.  Senator  Colman's 
child  wife."  She  added  what  was  in  her  thoughts,  "  I 
understand  that  the  society  people  here  have  taken 
her  up." 

"  Yes.  She  has  become  a  conspicuous  figure  in 
Washington.  I  remember  her,  Mrs.  Lyons,  when  she 
was  Addie  Farr — before  she  married  Congressman  Pol- 
sen  of  Kentucky.  She  was  a  dashing  looking  girl  in 
those  days,  with  her  black  eyes  and  black  ringlets.  I 
remember  she  had  a  coltish  way  of  tossing  her  head. 
The  story  is  that  when  she  accepted  Polsen  another 
Kentuckian — a  young  planter — who  was  in  love  with 
356 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

her,  drank  laudanum.  Now,  as  you  say,  she  is  being 
taken  up  socially,  and  her  husband,  the  Senator,  is  very 
proud  of  her  success.  After  all,  if  a  woman  is  ambi- 
tious and  has  tact,  what  can  she  ask  better  than  to  be 
the  wife  of  a  United  States  Senator  ?  "  He  paused  a 
moment,  then,  with  a  gallant  sidelong  glance  at  his 
companion,  resumed  in  a  concise  whisper,  which  had 
the  effect  of  a  disclosure,  "  Prophecies,  especially  politi- 
cal prophecies,  are  dangerous  affairs,  but  it  seems  to  me 
not  improbable  that  before  many  years  have  passed  the 
wife  of  Senator  Lyons  will  be  equally  prominent — be  as 
conspicuous  socially  as  the  wife  of  Senator  Colman." 

Selma  blushed,  but  not  wholly  with  pleasure.  Socially 
conspicuous  before  many  years  ?  The  splendid  prophecy, 
which  went  beyond  the  limit  of  Horace  Elton's  usual 
caution — for  he  combined  the  faculty  of  habitual  dis- 
cretion with  his  chatty  proclivities — was  dimmed  for 
Selma  by  the  rasping  intimation  that  she  was  not  con- 
spicuous yet.  Worse  still,  his  statement  shattered  the 
hope,  which  Flossy's  fluent  assertions  had  already  dis- 
turbed, that  she  was  to  find  in  Washington  a  company 
of  congenial  spirits  who  would  appreciate  her  at  her  full 
value  forthwith,  and  would  join  with  her  and  under 
her  leadership  in  resisting  the  encroachments  of  women 
of  the  stamp  of  Mrs.  Williams. 

"  I  am  very  ambitious  for  my  husband,  Mr.  Elton, 
and  of  course  I  have  hoped — do  hope  that  some  day 
he  will  be  a  Senator.  What  you  said  just  now  as  to 
the  power  of  his  voice  to  arouse  the  moral  enthusi- 
asm of  the  people  seemed  to  be  impressively  true. 
I  should  be  glad  to  be  a  Senator's  wife,  for— for  I  wish 
to  help  him.  I  wish  to  demonstrate  the  truth  of  the 
principles  to  which  both  our  lives  are  dedicated.  But  I 
357 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

hoped  that  I  might  help  him  now— that  my  mission 
might  be  clear  at  oDce.  It  seems  according  to  you  that 
a  Congressman's  wife  is  not  of  much  importance  ;  that 
her  hands  are  tied." 

"  Practically  so,  unless— unless  she  has  unusual  social 
facility,  and  the  right  sort  of  acquaintances.  Beauty, 
wealth  and  ambition  are  valuable  aids,  but  I  always  am 
sorry  for  women  who  come  here  without  friends,  and — 
er — the  right  sort  of  introduction.  At  any  rate,  to 
answer  your  question  frankly,  a  Congressman's  wife  has 
her  spurs  to  win  just  as  he  has.  If  you  were  to  set  up 
house-keeping,  here,  Mrs.  Lyons,  I've  no  doubt  that  a 
woman  of  your  attractions  and  capabilities  would  soon 
make  a  niche  for  herself.  You  have  had  social  ex- 
perience, which  Addie  Farr,  for  instance,  was  without." 

"  I  lived  in  New  York  for  some  years  with  my  hus- 
band, Mr.  Littleton,  so  I  have  a  number  of  Eastern  ac- 
quaintances." 

"  I  remember  you  were  talking  with  Mrs.  Gregory 
Williams  when  I  was  introduced  to  you.  The  people 
with  whom  she  is  staying  are  among  the  most  fashionable 
in  Washington.  What  I  said  had  reference  to  the  wife 
of  the  every-day  Congressman  who  comes  to  Washington 
expecting  recognition.  Not  to  Mrs.  James  0.  Lyons." 

Selma  bit  her  lip.  She  recognized  the  death-kuell  of 
her  cherished  expectations.  She  was  not  prepared  to 
acknowledge  formally  her  discomfiture  and  her  disap- 
pointment. But  she  believed  that  Mr.  Elton,  though 
a  plain  man,  had  comprehensive  experience  and  that 
he  spoke  with  shrewd  knowledge  of  the  situation.  She 
felt  sure  that  he  was  not  trying  to  deceive  or  humiliate 
her.  It  was  clear  that  Washington  was  contaminated 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

"I  dare  say  I  should  get  on  here  well  enough  after  a 
time,  though  I  should  find  difficulty  in  considering 
that  it  was  right  to  give  so  much  time  to  merely  social 
matters.  But  Mr.  Lyons  and  I  have  already  decided 
that  I  can  be  more  use  to  him  at  present  in  Benham. 
There  I  feel  at  home.  I  am  known,  and  have  my 
friends,  and  there  I  have  important  work — literary  lect- 
ures and  the  establishment  of  a  large  public  hospital 
under  way.  If  the  time  comes,  as  you  kindly  predict, 
that  my  husband  is  chosen  a  United  States  Senator,  I 
shall  be  glad  to  return  here  and  accept  the  responsibili- 
ties of  our  position.  But  I  warn  you,  Mr.  Elton, — I 
warn  the  people  of  Washington  "  she  added  with  a  wave 
of  her  fan,  while  her  eyes  sparkled  with  a  stern  light 
"  that  when  I  am  one  of  their  leaders,  I  shall  do  away  with 
some  of  the — er — false  customs  of  the  present  adminis- 
tration. I  shall  insist  on  preserving  our  American  social 
traditions  inviolate." 

Here  was  the  grain  of  consolation  in  the  case,  which 
she  clutched  at  and  held  up  before  her  mind's  eye  as  a 
new  stimulus  to  her  patriotism  and  her  conscience.  Both 
Mr.  Elton  and  Flossy  had  indicated  that  there  was  a  point 
at  which  exclusiveness  was  compelled  to  stop  in  its 
haughty  disregard  of  democratic  ideals.  There  were  cer- 
tain women  whom  the  people  who  worshipped  lack  of 
enthusiam  and  made  an  idol  of  cynicism  were  obliged  to 
heed  and  recognize.  They  might  be  able  to  ignore  the 
intelligence  and  social  originality  of  a  Congressman's  wife, 
but  they  dared  not  turn  a  cold  shoulder  on  the  wife  of  a 
United  States  Senator.  And  if  a  woman — if  she  were 
to  occupy  this  proud  position,  what  a  satisfaction  it  would 
be  to  assert  the  power  which  belonged  to  it;  assert  it  in 
behalf  of  the  cause  for  which  she  had  suffered  so  much! 
359 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Her  disappointment  tasted  bitterly  in  her  mouth,  and 
she  was  conscious  of  stern  revolt;  but  the  new  hope  had 
already  taken  possession  of  her  fancy,  and  she  hastened 
to  prove  it  by  the  ethical  standard  without  which  all 
hopes  were  valueless  to  her.  Even  now  had  anyone  told 
her  that  the  ruling  passion  of  her  life  was  to  be  wooed 
and  made  much  of  by  the  very  people  she  professed  to 
despise,  she  would  have  spurned  the  accuser  as  a  malici- 
ous slanderer.  Nor  indeed  would  it  have  been  wholly 
true.  Mrs.  Williams  had  practically  told  her  this  at 
their  last  meeting  in  New  York,  and  its  utterance  had 
convinced  her  on  the  contrary  of  repugnance  to  them, 
and  of  her  desire  to  be  the  leader  of  a  social  protest  against 
them.  Now  here,  in  Washington  of  all  places,  she  was 
confronted  by  the  bitter  suggestion  that  she  was  without 
allies,  and  that  her  enemies  were  the  keepers  of  the  door 
which  led  to  leadership  and  power.  Despondency  stared 
her  in  the  face,  but  a  splendid  possibility — aye  probabil- 
ity was  left.  She  would  not  forsake  her  principles.  She 
would  not  lower  her  flag.  She  would  return  to  Benham. 
Washington  refused  her  homage  now,  but  it  should 
listen  to  her  and  bow  before  her  some  day  as  the  wife  of 
one  of  the  real  leaders  of  the  State,  whom  Society  did 
not  dare  to  ignore. 


360 


CHAPTER  VIL 

AT  the  close  of  the  fortnight  of  her  stay  in  Washing- 
ton subsequent  to  the  reception  at  the  White  House, 
Selma  found  herself  in  the  same  frame  of  mind  as  when 
she  parted  from  Mr.  Elton.  During  this  fortnight  her 
time  was  spent  either  in  sight  seeing  or  at  the  hotel. 
The  exercises  at  the  Capitol  were  purely  formal,  pre- 
liminary to  a  speedy  adjournment  of  Congress.  Conse- 
quently her  husband  had  no  opportunity  to  distinguish 
himself  by  addressing  the  house.  Of  Flossy  she  saw 
nothing,  though  the  two  men  had  several  meetings. 
Apparently  both  Lyons  and  Williams  were  content  with 
a  surface  reconciliation  between  their  wives  which  did 
not  bar  family  intercourse.  At  least  her  husband  made 
no  suggestion  that  she  should  call  on  Mrs.  Williams, 
and  Flossy's  cards  did  not  appear.  Beyond  making  the 
acquaintance  of  a  few  more  wives  and  daughters  in  the 
hotel,  who  seemed  as  solitary  as  herself,  Selma  received  no 
overtures  from  her  own  sex.  She  knew  no  one,  and  no 
one  sought  her  out  or  paid  her  attention.  She  still  saw 
fit  to  believe  that  if  she  were  to  establish  herself  inWash- 
ington  and  devote  her  energies  to  rallying  these  wives 
and  daughters  about  her,  she  might  be  able  to  prove 
that  Flossy  and  Mr.  Elton  were  mistaken.  But  she  real- 
ized that  the  task  would  be  less  simple  than  she  had 
anticipated.  Besides  she  yearned  to  return  to  Beuham, 
and  take  up  again  the  thread  of  active  life  there.  Bea- 
301 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

ham  would  vindicate  her,  r  ad  some  day  Benham  would 
send  her  back  to  Washington  to  claim  recognition  and 
her  rightful  place. 

Lyons  himself  was  in  a  cheerful  mood  and  found  con- 
genial occupation  in  visiting  with  his  wife  the  many  his- 
torical objects  of  interest,  and  in  chatting  in  various  hotel 
corridors  with  the  public  men  of  the  country,  his  asso- 
ciates in  Congress.  His  solicitude  in  regard  to  the 
account  which  Williams  was  carrying  for  him  had  been 
relieved  temporarily  by  an  upward  turn  in  the  stock 
market,  and  the  impending  prompt  adjournment  of 
Congress  had  saved  him  from  the  necessity  of  taking 
action  in  regard  to  the  railroad  bill  which  Williams  had 
solicited  him  to  support.  Moreover  Selma  had  repeated 
to  him  Horace  Elton's  prophecy  that  it  was  not  unlikely 
that  some  day  he  would  become  Senator.  To  be  sure 
he  recognized  that  a  remark  like  this  uttered  to  a  pretty 
woman  by  an  astute  man  of  affairs  such  as  Elton  was 
not  to  be  taken  too  seriously.  There  was  no  vacancy  in 
the  office  of  Senator  from  his  state,  and  none  was  likely 
to  occur.  At  the  present  time,  if  one  should  occur,  his 
party  in  the  state  legislature  was  in  a  minority.  Hence 
prophecy  was  obviously  a  random  proceeding.  Never- 
theless he  was  greatly  pleased,  for,  after  all,  Elton  would 
scarcely  have  made  the  speech  had  he  not  been  genu- 
inely well  disposed.  A  senatorship  was  one  of  the  great 
prizes  of  political  life,  and  one  of  the  noblest  positions 
in  the  world.  It  would  afford  him  a  golden  opportunity 
to  leave  the  impress  of  his  convictions  on  national  legis- 
lation, and  defend  the  liberties  of  the  people  by  force  of 
the  oratorical  gifts  which  he  possessed.  Elton  had 
referred  to  these  gifts  in  complimentary  terms.  Was  it 
not  reasonable  to  infer  that  Elton  would  be  inclined  to 
362 


UNLEAVENED  BKEAD 

promote  his  political  fortunes  ?  Such  an  ally  would  be 
invaluable,  for  Elton  was  a  growing  power  in  the 
industrial  development  of  the  section  of  the  country 
where  they  both  lived.  He  had  continued  to  find  him 
friendly  in  spite  of  his  own  antagonism  on  the  pub- 
lic platform  to  corporate  power.  A  favorite  and  con- 
scientious hope  in  his  political  outlook  was  that  he 
might  be  able  to  make  capital  as  well  as  labor  believe 
him  to  be  a  friend  without  alienating  either ;  that  he 
might  obtain  support  at  the  polls  from  both  factions, 
and  thus  be  left  free  after  election  to  work  out  for  their 
mutual  advantage  appropriate  legislation.  He  had 
avowed  himself  unmistakably  the  champion  of  popular 
principles  in  order  to  win  the  confidence  of  the  common 
people,  but  his  policy  of  reasonable  conciliation  led  him 
to  cast  sheep's  eyes  at  vested  interests  when  he  could  do 
so  without  exposing  himself  to  the  charge  of  inconsis- 
tency. Many  of  his  friends  were  wealthy  men,  and  his 
private  ambition  was  to  amass  a  handsome  fortune. 
That  had  been  the  cause  of  his  speculative  ventures  in 
local  enterprises  which  promised  large  returns,  and  in 
the  stock  market.  Horace  Elton  was  a  friend  of  but 
three  years'  standing  ;  one  of  the  men  who  had  consulted 
him  occasionally  in  regard  to  legal  matters  since  he  had 
become  a  corporation  attorney.  He  admired  Elton's 
strong,  far-reaching  grasp  of  business  affairs,  his  capacity 
to  formulate  and  incubate  on  plans  of  magnitude  with- 
out betraying  a  sign  of  his  intentions,  and  his  power  to 
act  with  lightning  despatch  and  overwhelming  vigor 
when  the  moment  for  the  consummation  of  his  purposes 
arrived.  He  also  found  agreeable  Elton's  genial,  easy- 
going ways  outside  of  business  hours,  which  frequently 
took  the  form  of  social  entertainment  at  which  expense 
363 


tfNLEAVENED  BHEAD 

seemed  to  be  no  consideration  and  gastronomic  novel- 
ties were  apt  to  be  presented.  Lyons  attended  one  of 
these  private  banquets  while  in  Washington — a  dinner 
party  served  to  a  carefully  chosen  company  of  public 
men,  to  which  newspaper  scribes  were  unable  to  pene- 
trate. This  same  genial,  easy-going  tendency  of  Elton's 
to  make  himself  acceptable  to  those  with  whom  he  came 
in  contact  took  the  form  of  a  gift  to  Mrs.  Lyons  of 
a  handsome  cameo  pin  which  he  presented  to  her  a  day 
or  two  after  their  dialogue  at  the  President's  reception, 
and  for  which,  as  he  confidentially  informed  Selma,  he 
had  been  seeking  a  suitable  wearer  ever  since  he  had 
picked  it  up  in  an  out-of-the-way  store  in  Brussels  the 
previous  summer. 

On  the  day  of  their  departure  Selma,  as  she  took  a 
last  look  from  the  car  window  at  the  Capitol  and  the 
Washington  Monument,  said  to  her  husband  :  "  This  is 
a  beautiful  city — worthy  in  many  respects  of  the  genius 
of  the  American  people — but  I  never  wish  to  return 
to  Washington  until  you  are  United  States  Senator." 

"  Would  you  not  be  satisfied  with  Justice  of  the  Su- 
preme Court  ?  "  asked  Lyons,  gayly. 

"  I  should  prefer  Senator.  If  you  were  Senator,  you 
could  probably  be  appointed  to  the  Supreme  Court  in 
case  you  preferred  that  place.  I  am  relying  on  you, 
James,  to  bring  me  back  here  some  day." 

She  whispered  this  in  his  ear,  as  they  sat  with  heada 
close  together  looking  back  at  the  swiftly  receding  city. 
Selma's  hands  were  clasped  in  her  lap,  and  she  seemed 
to  her  lover  to  have  a  dreamy  air — an  air  suggesting 
poetry  and  high  ethical  resolve  such  as  he  liked  to  asso- 
ciate with  her  and  their  scheme  of  wedded  life.  It 
him  that  his  wife  should  feel  so  confident  that 
364 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

the  future  had  in  store  for  him  this  great  prize,  and  he 
allowed  himself  to  yield  to  the  pathos  of  the  moment 
and  whisper  in  reply  : 

"  I  will  say  this,  Selma.  My  business  affairs  look 
more  favorable,  and,  if  nothing  unforeseen  happens,  I 
do  not  see  why  we  shouldn't  get  on  reasonably  fast. 
Nowadays,  in  order  to  be  a  United  States  Senator  com- 
fortably, it  is  desirable  in  the  first  place  to  have  abun- 
dant means. " 

"Yes." 

"  We  must  be  patient  and  God-fearing,  and  with  your 
help,  dear,  and  your  sympathy,  we  may  live  to  see  what 
you  desire  come  to  pass.  Of  course,  my  ambition  is  to 
be  Senator,  and — and  to  take  you  back  to  "Washington  as 
a  Senator's  wife." 

Selma  had  not  chosen  to  confide  to  Lyons  in  set  terms 
her  social  grievance  against  the  capital  of  her  country. 
But  she  was  glad  to  perceive  from  his  last  words  that  he 
understood  she  was  not  satisfied  with  the  treatment 
accorded  her,  and  that  he  also  was  looking  forward  to 
giving  her  a  position  which  would  enable  her  to  rebuke 
the  ungodly  and  presumptuous. 

"Thank  you,  James,"  she  answered.  "When  that 
time  comes  we  shall  be  able  to  teach  them  a  number  of 
things.  For  the  present  though,  I  feel  that  I  can  be  of 
best  service  to  you  and  to  the  truths  which  we  are  living 
for  by  interesting  myself  in  whatever  concerns  Benham. 
We  believe  in  Benham,  and  Benham  seems  inclined  to 
believe  in  us  and  our  ideas." 

The  ensuing  year  passed  uneventfully.     Lyons  was 
able  to  be  at  home  from  the  first  of  April  to  the  re- 
assembling of  Congress  in  the  following  December.     He 
was  glad  to  give  himself  up  to  the  enjoyment  of  his 
365 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

handsome  establishment.  He  resumed  the  tenor  of  his 
professional  practice,  feeling  that  as  a  sober-minded, 
married  citizen  he  had  become  of  more  importance  to 
the  community,  and  he  was  eager  to  bear  witness  to  his 
sense  of  responsibility.  He  took  a  more  active  part  in 
soliciting  contributions  for  evangelizing  benighted  coun- 
tries, and  he  consented  on  several  occasions  to  deliver  an 
address  on  "  Success  in  Life"  to  struggling  young  men 
of  Benham  and  the  surrounding  towns.  His  easy  flow 
of  words,  his  dignity  and  his  sober  but  friendly  mien 
made  him  a  favorite  with  audiences,  and  constantly 
broadened  his  circle  of  acquaintance. 

Selma,  on  her  side,  took  up  the  organization  of  the 
Free  Hospital  provided  by  Mr.  Parsons.  Her  husband 
left  the  decision  of  all  but  legal  and  financial  questions 
to  her  and  Miss  Luella  Bailey,  who,  at  Selma's  request, 
was  made  the  third  member  of  the  board  of  trustees. 
She  decided  to  call  in  a  committee  of  prominent  phy- 
sicians to  formulate  a  programme  of  procedure  in  mat- 
ters purely  medical  ;  but  she  reserved  a  right  of  rejection 
of  their  conclusions,  and  she  insisted  on  the  recognition 
of  certain  cardinal  principles,  as  she  called  them.  She 
specified  that  no  one  school  of  medicine  should  dictate 
the  policy  of  the  hospital  as  regards  the  treatment  of  pa- 
tients. To  the  young  physician  whom  she  selected  to 
assist  her  in  forming  this  administrative  board  she  stated, 
with  stem  emotion :  "  I  do  not  intend  that  it  shall  be 
possible  in  this  hospital  for  men  and  women  to  be 
sacrificed  simply  because  doctors  are  unwilling  to  avail 
themselves  of  the  latest  resources  of  brilliant  individual 
discernment  I  know  what  it  means  to  see  a  beloved 
one  die,  who  might  have  been  saved  had  the  physician 
in  charge  been  willing  to  try  new  expedients.  The 
Ml 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

doors  of  this  hospital  must  be  ever  open  to  rising  uncon- 
ventional talent.  There  shall  be  no  creeds  nor  caste  of 
medicine  here." 

She  also  specified  that  the  matron  in  charge  of  the 
hospital  should  be  Mrs.  Earle,  whose  lack  of  trained 
experience  was  more  than  counterbalanced  by  her  ma- 
ternal, humanitarian  spirit,  as  Selma  expressed  it.  She 
felt  confident  that  Mrs.  Earle  would  choose  as  her 
assistants  competent  and  skilful  persons,  and  at  the 
same  time  that  her  broad  point  of  view  and  sympathetic 
instincts  would  not  allow  her  to  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  aspir- 
ing but  technically  ignorant  ability.  This  selection  of 
Mrs.  Earle  was  a  keen  pleasure  to  Selma.  It  seemed  to 
her  an  ideal  selection.  Mrs.  Earle  was  no  longer  young, 
and  was  beginning  to  find  the  constant  labor  of  lecture 
and  newspaper  work  exhausting.  This  dignified  and 
important  post  would  provide  her  with  a  permanent 
income,  and  would  afford  her  an  attractive  field  for  her 
progressive  capabilities. 

Selma's  choice  of  young  Dr.  Ashmun  as  the  head  of 
the  medical  board  was  due  to  a  statement  which  came 
to  her  ears,  that  he  was  reviled  by  some  of  the  physi- 
cians of  Benham  because  he  had  patented  certain  dis- 
coveries of  his  own  instead  of  giving  his  fellow-practi- 
tioners the  benefit  of  his  knowledge.  Selma  was 
prompt  to  detect  in  this  hostility  an  envious  disposition 
on  the  part  of  the  regular  physicians  to  appropriate  the 
fruits  of  individual  cleverness  and  to  repress  youthful 
revolt  against  conventional  methods.  Dr.  Ashmun 
regarded  his  selection  as  the  professional  chief  of  this 
new  institution  as  a  most  auspicious  occurrence  from  the 
standpoint  of  his  personal  fortunes.  He  was  ambi- 
tious, ardent,  and  keen  to  attract  attention,  with  an 
367 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

abundant  fnnd  of  energy  and  a  nervous,  driving  man- 
ner. He  was,  besides,  good  looking  and  fluent,  and  he 
quickly  perceived  the  drift  of  Selma's  intentions  in 
regard  to  the  hospital,  and  accommodated  himself  to 
them  with  enthusiasm.  They  afforded  him  the  very 
opportunity  which  he  most  desired — the  chance  to  assert 
himself  against  his  critics,  and  to  obtain  public  notice. 
The  watchword  of  liberty  and  distrust  of  professional 
canons  suited  his  purposes  and  his  mood,  and  he  threw 
himself  eagerly  into  the  work  of  carrying  out  Selma's 
projects. 

As  a  result  of  the  selection  of  Dr.  Ashmun  and  of  the 
other  members  of  the  administrative  board,  who  were 
chosen  with  a  view  to  their  availability  as  sympathetic 
colleagues,  letters  of  protest  from  several  physicians 
appeared  in  the  newspapers  complaining  that  the  new 
hospital  was  being  conducted  on  unscientific  and  shal- 
low principles,  disapproved  of  by  the  leading  men  of 
the  profession.  Selma  was  indignant  yet  thrilled.  She 
promptly  took  steps  to  refute  the  charge,  and  explained 
that  the  hostility  of  these  correspondents  proceeded  from 
envy  and  hide-bound  reluctance  to  adopt  new  and  revo- 
lutionizing expedients.  Through  the  aid  of  Mrs.  Earle 
and  Miss  Luella  Bailey  a  double-leaded  column  in  the 
Benham  Sentinel  set  forth  the  merits  of  the  new  depart- 
ure in  medicine,  which  was  cleverly  described  as  the 
revolt  of  the  talented  young  men  of  the  profession  from 
the  tyranny  of  their  conservative  elders.  Benham  be- 
came divided  in  opinion  as  to  the  merits  of  this  contro- 
versy, and  Selma  received  a  number  of  anonymous  let- 
ters through  the  post  approving  her  stand  in  behalf  of 
advanced,  independent  thought.  Among  the  physicians 
who  were  opposed  to  her  administration  of  the  hospital 
368 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

she  recognized  with  satisfaction  the  name  of  a  Dr. 
Paget,  who,  as  she  happened  to  know,  was  Mrs.  Hallett 
Taylor's  medical  adviser. 

Another  matter  in  which  Selma  became  interested  was 
the  case  of  Mrs.  Hamilton.  She  was  a  woman  who  had 
been  born  in  the  neighborhood  of  Benham,  but  had  lived 
for  twenty  years  in  England,  and  had  been  tried  in  Eng- 
land by  due  process  of  law  for  the  murder  of  her  husband 
and  sentenced  to  imprisonment  for  life.  Some  of  the 
people  of  the  state  who  had  followed  the  testimony  as 
reported  in  the  American  newspapers  had  decided  that 
she  ought  not  to  have  been  convicted.  Accordingly  a 
petition  setting  forth  the  opinion  of  her  former  neigh- 
bors that  she  was  innocent  of  the  charge,  and  should  as 
an  American  citizen  be  released  from  custody,  was  cir- 
culated for  signature.  A  public  meeting  was  held  and 
largely  attended,  at  which  it  was  resolved  to  send  a 
monster  petition  to  the  British  authorities  with  a  re- 
quest for  Mrs.  Hamilton's  pardon,  and  also  to  ask  the 
government  at  Washington  to  intercede  on  behalf  of 
the  unfortunate  sufferer.  The  statement  of  the  case 
appealed  vividly  to  Selma,  and  at  the  pullic  meeting, 
which  was  attended  chiefly  by  women,  shu  spoke,  and 
offered  the  services  of  her  husband  to  lay  the  matter 
before  the  President.  It  was  further  resolfed  to  obtain 
the  names  of  influential  persons  all  over  the  country  in 
order  that  the  petition  might  show  that  Uie  sentiment 
that  injustice  had  been  done  was  national  as  well  as 
local. 

Selma  espoused  the  case  with  ardor,  and  busied  her- 
self in  obtaining  signatures.  She  called  on  Miss  Flagg 
and  induced  her  to  sign  by  the  assurance  that  the  ver- 
iict  was  entirely  contrary  to  the  evidence.  She  then 
369 


UNLEAVENED  BKEAD 

had  recourse  to  her  former  sister-in-law,  conceiving  that 
the  signature  of  the  President  of  Wetmore  College  would 
impress  the  English.  She  and  Pauline  had  already  ex- 
changed visits,  and  Pauline  had  shown  no  umbrage  at 
her  marriage.  The  possibility  of  being  rebuffed  on  this 
occasion  did  not  occur  to  Selma.  She  took  for  granted 
that  Pauline  would  be  only  too  glad  to  give  her  support  to 
so  deserving  a  petition,  and  she  considered  that  she  was 
paying  her  a  compliment  in  soliciting  her  name  for  in- 
sertion among  the  prominent  signers.  Pauline  listened 
to  her  attentively,  then  replied  : 

"  I  am  sorry  for  the  woman,  if  she  is  innocent :  and 
if  she  has  been  falsely  accused,  of  course  she  ought  to 
be  released.  But  what  makes  you  think  she  is  inno- 
cent, Selma  ?" 

"  The  testimony  did  not  justify  her  conviction.  Ev- 
ery one  is  of  that  opinion." 

"  Have  you  read  the  testimony  yourself,  Selma  ?  " 

"No,  Pauline." 

"  Or  your  husband  ?  " 

"  My  husband  is  satisfied  from  what  others  have  told 
him,  just  as  I  am,  that  this  poor  American  woman  is 
languishing  in  prison  as  the  result  of  a  cruel  miscar- 
riage of  justice,  and  that  she  never  committed  the  crime 
of  which  she  has  been  found  guilty.  My  husband  has 
had  considerable  legal  experience." 

Pauline's  questions  were  nettling,  and  Selma  intended 
by  her  response  to  suggest  the  presumptuousness  of  her 
sister-in-law's  doubts  in  the  face  of  competent  author- 
ity. 

"I  realize  that  your  husband  ought  to  understand 
about  such  matters,  but  may  one  suppose  that  the  Eng- 
iiah  authorities  would  deliberately  allow  an  innocent 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

woman  to  remain  in  prison  ?  They  mast  know  that  the 
friends  of  Mrs.  Hamilton  believe  her  innocent.  Why 
should  we  on  this  side  of  the  water  meddle  simply  be- 
cause she  was  born  an  American  ?" 

"  Why  ?"  Selma  drew  herself  up  proudly.  "  In  the 
first  place  I  believe — we  believe — that  the  English  are 
capable  of  keeping  her  in  prison  on  a  technicality  merely 
because  she  is  there  already.  They  are  worshippers  of 
legal  form  and  red  tape,  my  husband  says.  And  as  to 
meddling,  why  is  it  not  our  duty  as  an  earnest  and 
Christian  people  to  remonstrate  against  the  continued 
incarceration  of  a  woman  born  under  our  flag  and  accus- 
tomed to  American  ideas  of  justice  ?  Meddling  ?  In 
my  opinion,  we  should  be  cowards  and  derelict  in  our 
duty  if  we  did  not  protest." 

Pauline  shook  her  head.  "  I  cannot  see  it  so.  It 
seems  to  me  an  interference  which  may  make  us  seem 
ridiculous  in  the  eyes  of  the  English,  as  well  as  offensive 
fco  them>  I  am  sorry,  Selma,  not  to  be  able  to  do  as 
you  wish." 

Selma  rose  with  burning  cheeks,  but  a  stately  air. 
"If  that  is  your  decision,  I  must  do  without  your 
name.  Already  we  have  many  signatures,  and  shall  ob- 
tain hundreds  more  without  difficulty.  We  look  at 
things  differently,  Pauline.  Our  point  of  view  has  never 
been  the  same.  Ridiculous  ?  I  should  be  proud  of  the 
ridicule  of  people  too  selfish  or  too  unenlightened  to 
heed  the  outcry  of  aspiring  humanity.  If  we  had  to 
depend  on  your  little  set  to  strike  the  note  of  progress, 
I  fear  we  should  sit  with  folded  hands  most  of  the  time/* 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  mean  by  my  little  set," 
said  Pauline  with  a  smile.     "  I  am  too  busy  with  my 
college  duties  to  belong  to  any  set.     I  see  my  friends 
371 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

occasionally  just  as  yon  see  yours  ;  and  as  to  progress — 
well,  I  fear  that  you  are  right  in  your  statement  that  we 
shall  never  look  at  things  alike.  To  me  progress  pre- 
supposes in  the  individual  or  the  community  attaining 
it  a  prelude  of  slow  struggle,  disheartening  doubts,  and 
modest  reverence  for  previous  results — for  the  accumu- 
lated wisdom  of  the  past." 

"  I  mean  by  your  set  the  people  who  think  as  you  do. 
1  understand  your  point  of  view.  I  should  have  liked," 
she  added,  "  to  ask  yon  to  share  with  me  the  responsi- 
bility of  directing  the  policy  of  the  Benham  Free  Hos- 
pital, had  I  not  known  that  you  would  listen  to  the 
voice  of  conservative  authority  in  preference  to  that  of 
fearless  innovation." 

"  I  certainly  should  have  hesitated  long  before  I  over- 
ruled the  experience  of  those  who  have  devoted  their 
lives  to  conscientious  effort  to  discover  truth." 

"That  illustrates  admirably  the  difference  between 
us,  Pauline.  No  one  is  more  eager  to  aid  the  discovery 
of  truth  than  I,  but  I  believe  that  truth  often  is  con- 
cealed from  those  who  go  on,  day  after  day,  following 
hum-drum  routine,  however  conscientious.  I  recog- 
nized that  Dr.  Ashmnn  was  a  live  man  and  had  fresh 
ideas,  so  I  chose  him  as  our  chief  of  staff,  notwithstand- 
ing the  doctors  were  unfriendly  to  him.  As  a  result, 
my  hospital  has  individuality,  and  is  already  a  success. 
That's  the  sort  of  thing  I  mean.  Good-by,"  she  said, 
putting  out  her  hand.  "  I  don't  expect  to  convert  you, 
Pauline,  to  look  at  things  my  way,  but  yon  must  realize 
by  this  time  that  it  is  the  Benham  way." 

"  Yet  the  leading  physicians  of  Benham  disapprove 
of  your  plans  for  the  management  of  the  hospital,"  said 
Pauline  firmly. 

373 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"  But  the  people  of  Benham  approve  of  them.  I  pre- 
fer their  sanction  to  that  of  a  coterie  of  cautions,  unen- 
thusiastic  autocrats." 

Selma,  true  to  her  intentions,  did  not  return  to  Wash- 
ington with  her  husband  when  Congress  reassembled  in 
December.  While  she  was  absorbed  with  her  philan- 
thropic plans  in  Benham,  Lyons  was  performing  his 
public  duties ;  seeking  to  do  the  country  good  service, 
and  at  the  right  moment  to  attract  attention  to  himself. 
The  opportunity  to  make  a  speech  along  the  line  of  his 
public  professions  in  behalf  of  labor  against  corporate 
monopoly  did  not  offer  itself  until  late  in  the  session. 
He  improved  the  few  minutes  allowed  him  to  such  ad- 
vantage that  he  was  listened  to  with  close  attention,  and 
was  at  once  recognized  as  one  of  the  persuasive  and  elo- 
quent speakers  of  the  minority.  Before  Congress  ad- 
journed he  obtained  another  chance  to  take  part  in 
debate,  by  which  he  produced  an  equally  favorable  im- 
pression. The  newspapers  of  the  country  referred 
approvingly  to  his  cogent  gift  of  statement  and  dignified 
style  of  delivery.  Both  the  bills  against  which  he  spoke 
were  passed  by  the  Republican  majority,  but  echoes  of 
his  words  came  back  from  some  of  their  constituents, 
and  Lyons  was  referred  to  as  certain  to  be  one  of  the 
strong  men  of  the  House  if  he  returned  to  Congress. 
He  went  home  at  the  close  of  the  session  in  a  contented 
frame  of  mind  so  far  as  his  political  prospects  were  con- 
cerned, but  he  was  not  free  to  enjoy  the  congratulations 
accorded  him  for  the  reason  that  his  business  ventures 
were  beginning  to  give  him  serious  solicitude.  The 
trend  of  the  stock  market  was  again  downward.  In 
expectation  of  a  rise  from  the  previous  depression,  he 
had  added  to  the  line  of  shares  which  Williams  &  Van- 
373 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Home  were  carrying  for  him.  A  slight  rise  had  come, 
sufficient  to  afford  him  a  chance  to  escape  from  the  toils 
of  Wall  street  without  loss.  But  he  needed  a  profit  to 
rehabilitate  his  ventures  in  other  directions — his  invest- 
ments in  the  enterprises  of  his  own  state,  which  had 
now  for  some  months  appeared  quiescent,  if  not  lan- 
guishing, from  a  speculative  point  of  view.  Everything 
pointed,  it  was  said,  to  a  further  advance  as  soon  as 
Congress  adjourned.  So  he  had  waited,  and  now,  al- 
though the  session  was  over,  the  stock  market  and 
financial  undertakings  of  every  sort  appeared  suddenly 
to  be  tottering.  He  had  not  been  at  home  a  month 
before  prices  of  all  securities  began  to  shrink  inordi- 
nately and  the  business  horizon  to  grow  murky  with  the 
clouds  of  impending  disaster.  To  add  to  his  worry, 
Lyons  was  conscious  that  he  had  pursued  a  fast  and 
loose  mental  course  in  regard  to  the  railroad  bill  in 
which  his  broker,  Williams,  was  interested.  He  had 
given  Williams  to  understand  that  he  would  try  to  see 
his  way  to  support  it ;  yet  in  view  of  his  late  promi- 
nence in  Washington,  as  a  foe  of  legislation  in  behalf 
of  moneyed  interests,  he  was  more  than  ever  averse  to 
casting  a  vote  in  its  favor.  The  bill  had  not  been 
reached  before  adjournment,  a  result  to  which  he  had 
secretly  contributed,  but  it  was  certain  to  be  called  up 
shortly  after  Congress  reassembled.  It  disturbed  him 
to  feel  that  his  affairs  in  New  York  were  in  such  shape 
that  Williams  could  embarrass  him  financially  if  he 
chose.  It  disturbed  him  still  more  that  he  appeared  to 
himself  to  be  guilty  of  bad  faith.  His  conscience  was 
troubled,  and  his  favorite  palliative  of  conciliation  did 
not  seem  applicable  to  the  case. 


374 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

UNTIL  this  time  the  course  of  financial  events  in  Ben- 
ham  since  its  evolution  from  a  sleepy  country  town 
began  had  been  steadily  prosperous.  There  had  been 
temporary  recessions  in  prices,  transient  haltings  in  the 
tendency  of  new  local  undertakings  to  double  and  quad- 
ruple in  value.  A  few  rash  individuals,  indeed,  had 
been  forced  to  suspend  payments  and  compound  with 
their  creditors.  But  there  had  been  no  real  set  back  to 
commercial  enthusiasm  and  speculative  gusto.  Those 
who  desired  to  borrow  money  for  progressive  enterprises 
had  found  the  banks  accommodating  and  unsuspicious, 
and  to  Benham  initiative  it  yet  appeared  that  the 
development  of  the  resources  of  the  neighborhood  by 
the  unwearying,  masterful  energy  of  the  citizens  was 
still  in  its  infancy. 

But  now,  after  a  few  months  of  inactivity,  which 
holders  of  speculative  securities  had  spoken  of  as  another 
healthy  breathing  spell,  the  tendency  of  prices  had 
changed.  Had  not  merely  halted,  but  showed  a  radical 
tendency  to  shrink  ;  even  to  tumble  feverishly.  Buyers 
were  scarce,  and  the  once  accommodating  banks  dis- 
played a  heartless  disposition  to  scrutinize  collateral  and 
to  ask  embarrassing  questions  in  regard  to  commercial 
paper.  Rates  of  interest  on  loans  were  ruthlessly  ad- 
vanced, and  additional  security  demanded.  A  pall  of 
dejection  hung  over  Benham.  Evil  days  had  come  ; 
375 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

days  the  fruit  of  a  long  period  of  inflation.  A  dozen 
leading  firms  failed  and  carried  down  with  them  diverse 
small  people.  Amid  the  general  distrust  and  anxiety 
all  eyes  were  fixed  on  Wall  street,  the  so-called  money 
centre  of  the  country,  the  Gehenna  where  this  cyclone 
had  first  manifested  itself.  The  newspapers,  voicing 
Benham  public  opinion,  cast  vituperation  at  the  bank- 
ers and  brokers  of  Wall  street,  whose  unholy  jugglings 
with  fortune  had  brought  this  commercial  blight  on  the 
community.  Wall  street  had  locked  up  money  ;  conse- 
quently funds  were  tight  in  Benham,  and  the  plans  of 
its  honest  burghers  to  promote  enterprise  and  develop 
the  lawful  industries  of  the  country  were  interrupted. 
So  spoke  public  opinion,  and,  at  the  same  time,  hun- 
dreds of  private  letters  were  being  despatched  through 
the  Benham  Post  Office  in  response  to  requests  for 
more  margins  on  stocks  held  for  the  honest  burghers  by 
the  fraternity  of  Wall  street  gamblers.  There  was  pri- 
vate wailing  and  gnashing  of  teeth  also,  for  in  the  panic 
a  few  of  these  bankers  and  brokers  had  been  submerged, 
and  the  collateral  of  Benham's  leading  citizens  had  been 
swept  away. 

The  panic  itself  was  brief  as  panics  always  are,  but 
it  left  behind  it  everywhere  a  paralyzed  community.  So 
far  as  Benham  was  concerned,  only  a  few  actually  failed, 
but,  in  a  host  of  instances,  possessors  of  property  who 
had  thought  themselves  wealthy  a  year  before  found 
that  they  were  face  to  face  with  the  knotty  problem  of 
nursing  their  dwarfed  resources  so  as  to  avoid  eventual 
insolvency.  Everything  had  shrunk  fifty— often  one 
hundred — per  cent.,  for  the  basis  of  Benham's  semi- 
fabulous  development  had  been  borrowed  money.  Many 
of  Benham's  leading  citizens  were  down  to  hard  pan,  so 
376 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

to  speak.  Their  inchoate  enterprises  were  being  carried 
by  the  banks  on  the  smallest  margins  consistent  with  the 
solvency  of  those  institutions,  and  clear-headed  men 
knew  that  months  of  recuperation  must  elapse  before 
speculative  properties  would  show  life  again.  Benham 
was  consequently  gloomy  for  once  in  despite  of  its  na- 
tive buoyancy.  It  would  have  arisen  from  the  ashes  of  a 
fire  as  strenuous  as  a  young  lion.  But,  with  everybody's 
stocks  and  merchandise  pledged  to  the  money  lenders, 
enterprise  was  gripped  by  the  throat.  In  the  pride  of 
its  prosperity  Benham  had  dreamed  that  it  was  a  law 
unto  itself,  and  that  even  Wall  street  could  not  affect  its 
rosy  commercial  destinies.  It  appeared  to  pious  owners 
of  securities  almost  as  though  God  had  deserted  his 
chosen  city  of  a  chosen  country. 

Lyons  was  among  those  upon  whom  the  harrow  of 
this  fall  in  prices  and  subsequent  hand-to-mouth  strug- 
gle with  the  banks  pressed  with  unpleasant  rigor.  In 
business  phraseology  he  was  too  much  extended.  Conse- 
quently, as  the  margins  of  value  of  the  securities  on 
which  he  had  borrowed  dropped  away,  he  was  kept  on 
tenter-hooks  as  to  the  future.  In  case  the  process  of 
shrinkage  went  much  further,  he  would  be  required  to 
supply  more  collateral ;  and,  if  the  rate  of  money  did 
not  fall,  the  banks  would  refuse  to  renew  his  notes  as 
they  became  due,  unless  he  could  furnish  clear  evi- 
dence of  his  solvency.  He  was  owing  over  one  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  dollars  on  paper  secured  only  by  the 
stock  and  bonds  of  brand-new  enterprises,  which  had  no 
market  negotiability.  From  the  money  which  he  had 
borrowed  he  had  sent,  from  time  to  time,  to  Williams 
and  Van  Home  an  aggregate  of  forty  thousand  dollars  to 
protect  some  two  thousand  shares  of  railroad  stocks, 
377 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Williams  had  especially  commended  the  shares  of  the 
coal-carrying  roads  to  his  attention,  and  the  drop  in 
prices  had  been  uniformly  severe  in  these  properties. 
Instead  of  being  the  possessor  of  a  stable  quarter  of  a 
million,  which  he  considered  to  be  the  value  of  his 
property  at  the  time  of  his  election  to  Congress,  Lyons 
suddenly  realized  that  he  was  on  the  brink  of  a  serious 
financial  collapse  through  which  he  might  lose  every- 
thing before  he  could  discharge  his  liabilities.  It  seemed 
cruel  to  him,  for  he  believed  that  all  his  ventures  were 
sound,  and  that  if  he  were  not  forced  to  sacrifice  his 
possessions,  their  future  value  would  attest  his  sagacity. 
But  at  present  the  securities  of  speculative  enterprises 
were  practically  worthless  as  procurers  of  ready  money. 
The  extreme  circumstances  had  come  upon  him  with 
startling  rapidity,  so  that  he  found  himself  in  the  un- 
pleasant predicament  of  having  used  for  temporary  re- 
lief some  of  the  bonds  belonging  to  the  Parsons  estate 
which  he  held  as  executor.  He  had  forwarded  these  to 
Williams  merely  as  a  matter  of  convenience  before  he 
had  become  anxious,  expecting  to  be  able  to  replace 
them  with  funds  coming  to  him  within  thirty  days  from 
a  piece  of  real  estate  for  which  he  had  received  an  offer. 
He  had  held  off  in  the  hope  of  obtaining  a  higher  price 
The  following  week,  when  signs  of  danger  were  multi 
plying,  he  had  found  the  would-be  purchaser  unwilling 
to  buy  at  any  price.  Realizing  the  compromising  posi- 
tion in  which  he  had  placed  himself  by  his  action,  he 
had  cast  about  feverishly  for  the  means  to  redeem  the 
hypothecated  securities,  but  all  his  resources  were  taxed 
of  a  sudden  by  the  advent  of  the  panic.  It  occurred 
to  him  to  ask  Selma  to  allow  substitution  of  the  twenty 
thousand  dollars,  which  had  been  apportioned  to  her  as 
378 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

her  legacy,  for  the  bonds,  but  at  first  he  had  shrunk 
from  the  mortification  of  disclosing  his  condition  to  her, 
and  now  that  the  situation  had  developed,  he  feared  that 
he  might  be  obliged  to  borrow  this  money  from  her  for 
the  protection  of  his  other  interests.  It  gave  him  sore 
concern  that  he,  a  champion  of  moral  ideas,  a  leading 
church  member,  and  a  Representative  of  the  Federal 
Government  should  be  put  in  such  an  equivocal  position. 
Here  again  there  was  no  opportunity  for  conciliation, 
and  dignified  urbanity  was  of  no  avail.  If  the  condi- 
tion of  drooping  prices  and  general  distrust,  a  sort  of 
commercial  dry-rot,  which  had  succeeded  the  panic,  con- 
tinued much  longer  he  would  be  driven  to  the  wall  unless 
relief  were  forthcoming.  Nor  was  it  much  consolation 
that  many  others  were  on  the  verge  of  failure.  Finan- 
cial insolvency  for  him  would  mean  the  probable  loss  of 
his  seat  in  Congress,  and  the  serious  interruption  of 
his  political  career.  From  what  source  could  he  hope 
for  relief  ?  The  preparations  for  the  autumn  campaign 
were  already  being  considered,  and  there  was  likelihood 
of  another  close  contest  between  the  two  political  par- 
ties. But  for  the  worry  occasioned  by  his  plight,  he 
would  have  resumed  the  contest  with  hopeful  ardor, 
appreciating  that  the  pecuniary  distress  of  the  commu- 
nity would  be  likely  to  work  to  his  advantage.  His 
own  nomination  was  assured ;  his  re-election  appeared 
probable.  But  after  it  what  could  he  expect  but  the 
deluge  ? 

One  source  of  the  effectiveness  of  Horace  Elton  was 
that  he  was  wont  to  exercise  foresight,  and  make  his 
plans  in  advance  while  other  men  were  slumbering.  He 
had  been  prepared  for  the  panic  because  he  had  been 
expecting  it  for  more  than  a  year,  and  the  ship  of  hia 
379 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

financial  fortunes  was  close  reefed  to  meet  the  fury  of 
the  overdue  gale.  Also  he  was  quick  to  recognize  that 
the  wide-spread  depreciation  of  values  would  inevitably 
be  followed  by  a  period  of  business  inactivity  which 
would  throw  out  of  employment  a  large  number  of  wage 
earners  whose  ballots  as  a  consequence  would  be  cast 
against  the  political  party  in  power,  As  far  back  as  the 
time  when  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  Selma  at  Wash- 
ington and  selected  her  as  the  wearer  of  his  cameo  pin, 
he  had  been  incubating  on  a  scheme  for  the  consolida- 
tion of  the  gas  companies  in  the  cities  and  towns  of  the 
state  into  one  large  corporation.  For  this  corporation 
he  required  a  liberal  charter,  which  the  next  legislature 
would  be  invited  to  grant.  He  expected  to  be  able  to 
procure  this  franchise  from  the  legislature,  but  he 
judged  that  the  majority  in  favor  of  the  bill  would  not 
be  large  enough  to  pass  it  over  the  Governor's  veto. 
Accordingly  it  was  of  the  first  importance  that  the  Gov- 
ernor should  be  friendly  to  the  measure. 

This  was  the  year  of  the  Presidential  election.  Both 
political  parties  were  seeking  to  nominate  their  strongest 
candidates  for  the  various  federal  and  state  offices.  A 
promoter  of  large  business  schemes  was  at  a  disadvan- 
tage in  a  campaign  where  party  feelings  ran  high  and 
national  issues  were  involved,  and  Elton  knew  it.  He 
commonly  chose  an  off  year  in  politics  for  the  consum- 
mation of  his  business  deals.  But  he  had  chosen  to 
push  his  bill  this  year  for  the  reason  that  he  wished  to 
be  in  a  position  to  buy  out  the  sub-companies  cheaply. 
The  community  was  pressed  for  ready  money,  and  many 
men  who  would  be  slow  in  prosperous  times  to  extract 
gas  shares  from  their  tin  boxes  and  stockings  would  be 
glad  to  avail  themselves  of  a  reasonable  cash  offer. 
380 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Elton  was  a  Republican  on  national  issues.  His  expe- 
rience had  been  that  the  Republican  Party  was  funda- 
mentally friendly  to  corporations,  in  spite  of  occasional 
pious  ejaculations  in  party  platforms  to  the  contrary. 
He  had  a  Republican  candidate  for  Governor  in  mind 
who  would  be  faithful  to  his  interests  ;  but  this  candi- 
date was  put  aside  in  the  convention  in  deference  to  the 
sentiment  that  only  a  man  of  first-rate  mental  and 
moral  calibre  could  command  the  allegiance  of  inde- 
pendent voters,  whose  co-operation  seemed  essential  to 
party  success.  The  Republican  state  convention  was 
held  three  weeks  prior  to  the  date  fixed  for  that  of  their 
opponents.  Within  twenty-four  hours  subsequent  to 
the  nomination  of  Hon.  John  Patterson  as  the  Republi- 
can candidate  for  Governor,  while  the  party  organs  were 
congratulating  the  public  on  his  selection,  and  the  leaders 
of  the  party  were  endeavoring  to  suppress  the  murmurs  of 
the  disappointed  lower  order  of  politicians  who,  in  meta- 
phorical phrase,  felt  that  they  were  sewed  up  in  a  sack  for 
another  two  years  by  the  choice  of  this  strong  citizen, 
one  of  the  most  widely  circulated  democratic  newspapers 
announced  in  large  type  on  its  front  page  that  Hon. 
James  0.  Lyons  was  the  only  Democrat  who  could 
defeat  him  in  the  gubernatorial  contest.  Behind  the 
ledger  sheet  of  this  newspaper — which  was  no  other  than 
the  Benham  Sentinel—  lurked  the  keen  intelligence  of 
Horace  Elton.  He  knew  that  the  candidate  of  his  own 
party  would  never  consent  to  indicate  in  advance  what 
his  action  on  the  gas  bill  would  be,  and  that  he  would 
only  prejudice  his  chances  of  obtaining  favorable  action 
when  the  time  arrived  by  any  attempt  to  forestall  a 
decision.  This  did  not  suit  Horace  Elton.  He  was 
accustomed  to  be  able  to  obtain  an  inkling  before  elec- 
381 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

tion  that  legislation  in  which  he  was  interested  would 
not  encounter  a  veto.  His  measures  were  never  dishon- 
est. That  is,  he  never  sought  to  foist  bogus  or  frau- 
dulent undertakings  upon  the  community.  He  was 
seeking,  to  be  sure,  eventual  emolument  for  himself, 
but  he  believed  that  the  franchise  which  he  was  anxious 
to  obtain  would  result  in  more  progressive  and  more 
effectual  public  service.  He  had  never  before  felt 
obliged  to  refrain  from  asking  direct  or  indirect  assur- 
ance that  his  plans  would  be  respected  by  the  Governor. 
Yet  he  had  foreseen  the  possibility  of  just  such  an 
occurrence.  The  one  chance  in  a  hundred  had  happened 
and  he  was  ready  for  it.  He  intended  to  contribute  to 
the  Republican  national  campaign  fund,  but  he  did  not 
feel  that  the  interests  of  his  State  would  suffer  if  he 
used  all  the  influences  at  his  command  to  secure  a 
Governor  who  would  be  friendly  to  his  scheme,  and  Con- 
gressman Lyons  appeared  to  him  the  most  available  man 
for  his  purpose. 

It  had  already  occurred  to  Lyons  that  his  nomination 
as  Governor  was  a  possibility,  for  the  leaders  of  the 
party  were  ostensibly  looking  about  for  a  desirable  Dem- 
ocrat with  whom  to  confront  Patterson,  and  had  shown 
an  intention  to  turn  a  cold  shoulder  on  the  ambition  of 
several  aspirants  for  this  honor  who  might  have  been 
encouraged  in  an  ordinary  year  as  probable  victors. 
He  knew  that  his  name  was  under  consideration,  and 
he  had  made  up  his  mind  that  he  would  accept  the 
nomination  if  it  were  offered  to  him.  He  would  regret 
the  interruption  of  his  Congressional  career,  but  he  felt 
that  his  election  as  Governor  in  a  presidential  year 
after  a  close  contest  would  make  him  the  leader  of 
the  party  in  the  State,  and,  in  case  the  candidate  of 
382 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

his  party  were  chosen  President,  would  entitle  him  to 
important  recognition  from  the  new  administration. 
Moreover,  if  he  became  Governor,  his  financial  status 
wculd  be  strengthened.  The  banks  would  be  more  likely 
to  accommodate  one  in  such  a  powerful  position,  and  he 
might  be  able  to  keep  his  head  above  water  until  better 
times  brought  about  a  return  of  public  confidence  and 
a  recovery  in  prices.  Yet  he  felt  by  no  means  sure  that 
even  as  Governor  he  could  escape  betraying  his  financial 
embarrassment,  and  his  mind  was  so  oppressed  by  the 
predicament  in  which  he  found  himself  that  he  made  no 
effort  on  his  own  part  to  cause  the  party  leaders  to  fix 
their  choice  on  him.  Nor  did  he  mention  the  possibility 
of  his  selection  to  Selma.  Mortification  and  self-re- 
proach had  made  him  for  the  moment  inert  as  to  his 
political  future,  and  reluctant  to  confide  his  troubles  to 
her. 

The  clarion  declaration  of  the  Benham  Sentinel  in 
favor  of  Lyons  evoked  sympathetic  echoes  over  the  State, 
which  promptly  convinced  the  political  chieftains  that 
he  was  the  strongest  candidate  to  pit  against  Patterson. 
The  enthusiasm  caused  by  the  suggestion  of  his  name 
spread  rapidly,  and  at  the  end  of  a  week  his  nomination 
at  the  convention  was  regarded  as  certain. 

The  championship  of  the  Sentinel  was  a  complete  sur- 
prise to  Selma.  She  had  assumed  that  her  husband 
would  rsturn  to  Washington,  and  that  political  promo- 
tion for  the  present  was  out  of  the  question.  When  she 
saw  her  husband's  features  looking  out  at  her  from  a  large 
cut  on  the  front  page  of  the  morning  newspaper,  and 
read  the  conspicuous  heading  which  accompanied  it — 
"  The  Sentinel  nominates  as  Governor  the  Hon.  James  0. 
Lyons  of  Benham,  the  most  eloquent  orator  and  most 
383 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

public-spirited  citizen  of  the  State" — her  heart  gave  a 
bound,  and  she  eagerly  asked  herself,  "Why  not?" 
That  was  jast  what  they  needed,  what  she  needed  to 
secure  her  hold  on  the  social  evolution  of  Benham. 
As  the  wife  of  the  Governor  of  the  State  she  would  be 
able  to  ignore  the  people  who  held  aloof  from  her,  and 
introduce  the  reforms  in  social  behavior  on  which  her 
heart  was  set. 

"  James,  have  you  seen  this  ?  "  she  asked,  eagerly. 

Lyons  was  watching  her  from  across  the  breakfast 
table.  He  had  seen  it,  and  had  laid  the  newspaper 
within  her  reach. 

"  Yes,  dear.     It  is  very  complimentary,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  But  what  does  it  mean  ?  Are  you  to  be  Governor  ? 
Did  yon  know  of  it,  James  ?  " 

"  I  knew  that  my  name,  with  others,  had  been  men- 
tioned by  those  who  were  looking  for  a  candidate  whom 
we  can  elect.  But  this  nomination  of  the  Sentinel 
comes  from  a  clear  sky.  Would  you  like  to  have  me 
Governor,  Selma?" 

"  Yes,  indeed.  If  the  chance  is  offered  you,  James, 
you  will  surely  accept  it.  It  would  please  me  immensely 
to  see  you  Governor.  We  should  not  be  separated  then 
part  of  the  year,  and — and  I  should  be  able  here  in  Ben- 
ham  to  help  you  as  your  wife  ought  to  help  you.  I 
know,"  she  added,"  that  you  have  been  looking  for- 
ward to  the  next  session  of  Congress,  in  the  hope  of 
distinguishing  yourself,  but  isn't  this  a  finer  oppor- 
tunity ?  Doesn't  it  open  the  door  to  splendid  possibil- 
ities?" 

Lyons  nodded.  His  wife's  eager  presentation  of  the 
case  confirmed  his  own  conclusions.  "  It  is  an  impor- 
tant decision  to  make,"  he  said,  with  gravity.  "  If  I  am 
384 


UNLEAVENED  BKEAD 

not  elected,  I  shall  have  lost  my  place  in  the  Congres- 
sional line,  and  may  find  difficulty  in  recovering  it 
later.  But  if  the  party  needs  me,  if  the  State  needs  me, 
I  mnst  not  think  of  that.  I  cannot  help  being  gratified, 
encouraged  by  the  suggestion  that  my  fellow-citizens  of 
my  political  faith  are  turning  to  me  as  their  standard- 
bearer  at  this  time  when  great  public  issues  are  in- 
volved. If  I  can  serve  God  and  my  country  in  this 
way,  and  at  the  same  time  please  you,  my  wife,  what 
can  I  ask  better  ?" 

He  spoke  with  genuine  feeling  and  reverence,  for  it 
was  in  keeping  with  his  religious  tendencies  to  rec- 
ognize in  advance  the  solemn  responsibilities  of  high 
office,  and  to  picture  himself  as  the  agent  of  the  heav- 
enly powers.  This  attitude  of  mind  always  found  Selma 
sympathetic  and  harmonious.  Her  eyes  kindled  with 
enthusiasm,  and  she  replied  : 

"  You  view  the  matter  as  I  would  have  you  view  it, 
James.  If  this  trust  is  committed  to  us  by  Providence, 
it  is  our  duty  to  accept  it  as  lovers  of  our  country  and 
promoters  of  true  progress." 

"It  would  seem  so.  And  in  some  ways,"  he  said,  as 
though  he  felt  the  impulse  to  be  reasonably  frank  to- 
ward Providence  in  his  acceptance  of  the  trust,  "  my 
election  as  Governor  would  be  advantageous  to  my  politi- 
cal and  business  interests.  I  have  not  sought  the  office," 
he  added  with  dignified  unction,  "but  my  knowledge 
of  local  conditions  leads  me  to  believe  that  this  action  of 
the  Sentinel  signifies  that  certain  powerful  influences 
are  working  in  my  favor.  I  shall  be  able  to  tell  you 
more  accurately  in  regard  to  this  before  long." 

Lyons  happened  to  know  that  the  Benham  Sentinel 
had  enlarged  its  plant  two  years  previous,  and  that 
385 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Horace  Elton  was  still  the  holder  of  its  notes  for  hot 
rowed  money.  The  transaction  had  passed  through  his 
bank,  and  in  the  course  of  his  mental  search  for  reasons 
to  account  for  the  sudden  flat-footed  stand  of  the  news- 
paper, the  thought  came  into  his  mind  and  dwelt  there 
that  Elton  was  at  the  bottom  of  it.  If  so,  what  was 
Elton's  reason?  Why  should  Elton,  a  Republican, 
desire  his  nomination  ?  Surely  not  to  compass  his 
defeat 

In  this  connection  Elton's  friendship  and  the  proph- 
ecy made  to  Selma  as  to  his  political  future  occurred  to 
him  and  forbade  an  invidious  supposition.  "Glamis 
thou  art,  and  Cawdor,  and  thou  shalt  be  what  thou  art 
promised  ! "  Lyons  left  Selma  with  the  conviction  that 
he  would  find  Elton  to  be  mainly  responsible  for  what 
had  taken  place.  Shortly  after  reaching  his  office  he 
received  a  note  from  him  asking  for  an  appointment. 
Punctually  at  twelve  o'clock  Elton  arrived  and  was 
shown  into  Lyons's  private  room.  Lyons  gave  orders 
that  he  was  not  to  be  disturbed,  for  he  believed  that  the 
results  of  the  interview  were  likely  to  have  a  serious 
bearing  on  his  career  as  a  statesman. 

Both  men  were  of  heavy  physique,  but  as  they  sat 
facing  each  other  an  observer  would  have  remarked  that 
Elton's  visage  possessed  a  clean-cut  compactness  of  ex- 
pression despite  its  rotund  contour.  His  closely  trimmed 
whiskers,  his  small,  clear,  penetrating  eyes,  and  the 
effect  of  neatness  conveyed  by  his  personal  appearance 
were  so  many  external  indications  of  his  mental  lucidity 
and  precision. 

In  contrast  Lyons's  moon-shaped  face,  emphasized  by 
its  smooth-shaven  mobile  mouth,  below  which  his  almost 
white  chin  beard  hung  pendent,  expressed  a  curious 
386 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Interplay  of  emotional  sanctity,  urbane  shrewdness,  and 
solemn  self-importance. 

"Governor  Lyons,  at  your  service/'  said  Elton,  re- 
garding him  steadily. 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  I  know  so,  if  you  desire  it." 

"  The  nomination,  you  mean  ?  " 

"  The  election  by  a  comfortable  majority." 

Lyons  breathed  hard  with  satisfaction.  "  If  the  people 
of  the  State  choose  to  confide  their  interests  to  my 
custody,  I  shall  not  refuse  to  serve  them." 

"  So  I  supposed.  You  may  be  wondering,  Lyons, 
why  I,  a  Republican,  should  be  talking  like  this.  I 
will  tell  you.  Observation  has  led  me  to  believe  that 
the  people  of  this  State  will  elect  a  Democratic  Gov- 
ernor this  year.  The  hard  times  will  hurt  the  adminis- 
tration. Consequently,  as  your  friend  and  my  own 
friend,  I  have  taken  the  liberty  to  indicate  to  the  man- 
agers of  your  party  their  strongest  man.  I  am  respon- 
sible for  what  you  saw  on  the  front  page  of  the 
Sentinel  this  morning.  There  need  not  be  much  diffi- 
culty," he  added,  significantly,  "  in  securing  emphatic 
endorsement  throughout  the  State  of  the  Sentinel's 
preference." 

Lyons  looked  grave.  "  You  must  be  aware  that  our 
views  on  public  questions — especially  those  which  con- 
cern the  relations  of  capital  and  labor — are  not  the 
same." 

"  Certainly.  I  tell  you  frankly  that  while,  from  a 
humanitarian  point  of  view,  I  respect  your  desire  to 
relieve  the  inequalities  of  modern  civilization,  as  a 
business  man  and  a  man  of  some  property  I  do  not  re- 
gard the  remedies  presented  by  your  party  platform  as 
387 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

just  or  adequate.  I  recognize  that  your  opinions  are 
hostile  to  corporate  interests,  but  I  have  gathered  also 
that  you  are  disposed  to  be  reasonable  and  conciliatory  ; 
that  yon  are  not  inclined  to  regard  all  men  and  all 
measures  as  dangerous,  merely  because  they  have  means 
or  are  introduced  in  the  name  of  capital." 

"  It  hag  always  seemed  to  me  that  a  conciliatory  spirit 
secures  the  most  definite  results  for  the  public,"  assented 
Lyons. 

"  Precisely.  See  here,  Lyons,"  Elton  said,  leaning 
forward  across  the  table  at  which  they  were  sitting,  "  I 
wish  to  be  entirely  frank  with  you.  You  know  me  well 
enough  to  understand  that  I  have  not  offered  you  my 
support  in  any  philanthropic  spirit.  I  could  not  have 
deceived  you  as  to  this  had  I  tried.  I  am  a  practical 
man,  and  have  an  axe  to  grind.  I  am  urging  your  elec- 
tion as  Governor  because  I  believe  yon  to  possess  intelli- 
gent capacity  to  discriminate  between  what  is  harmful 
to  the  community  and  what  is  due  to  healthy,  individual 
enterprise — the  energy  which  is  the  sap  of  American 
citizenship.  We  capitalists  have  no  fear  of  an  honest 
man,  provided  he  has  the  desire  and  the  ability  to  pro- 
tect legitimate  business  acumen  against  the  slander  of 
mere  demagogues.  I  have  a  bill  here,"  he  added,  draw- 
ing a  printed  document  from  his  pocket,  "  which  I  am 
desirous  to  see  passed  by  the  next  legislature.  It  em- 
bodies a  charter  authorizing  the  acquisition  and  merger 
in  one  corporation  of  all  the  gas  companies  of  this  State, 
and  an  extension  of  corporate  powers  so  as  to  cover  all 
forms  of  municipal  lighting.  Were  your  hands  not  tied 
by  your  prospective  election,  I  should  be  glad  to  offer 
yon  an  opportunity  to  become  one  of  the  incorporators, 
for  I  believe  that  the  undertaking  will  be  lucrative. 
388 


UNLEAVENED  BKEAD 

That,  of  course,  is  out  of  the  question.  Now  then,  this 
is  a  perfectly  honest  bill.  On  its  face,  to  be  sure,  it 
secures  a  valuable  franchise  for  the  petitioners,  and  con- 
sequently may  encounter  some  opposition.  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  no  one  who  considers  the  matter  candidly 
and  closely  can  fail  to  recognize  that  the  great  public 
will  secure  cheaper  gas  and  more  efficient  service  as  the 
result  of  the  consolidation.  And  there  is  where  I  felt 
that  I  could  count  on  your  intelligence.  You  would  not 
allow  the  plea  that  capitalists  were  interested  in  obtain- 
ing a  profitable  franchise  to  obscure  the  more  vital  con- 
sideration that  the  community  will  be  the  true  gainers." 

Lyons  bowed  graciously,  and  stroked  his  beard. 
"  What  is  it  you  wish  me  to  do  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  To  read  the  bill  in  the  first  place  ;  to  convince  your- 
self that  what  I  have  told  you  is  true  ;  to  satisfy  your- 
self that  the  measure  is  essentially  harmless.  The  bill 
is  not  long.  Read  it  now  and  let  me  hear  your  objec- 
tions. I  have  some  papers  here  to  look  over  which  will 
occupy  me  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  if  you  can  spare  me 
the  time." 

Lyons  acquiesced,  and  proceeded  to  peruse  slowly  the 
document.  When  he  had  finished  it  he  folded  it  sol- 
emnly and  returned  it  to  Elton.  "  It  is  a  bill  framed 
in  the  interest  of  capital,  but  I  cannot  say  that  the  pub- 
lic will  be  prejudiced  by  it.  On  the  contrary,  I  should 
judge  that  the  price  of  gas  in  our  cities  and  towns  would 
be  lowered  as  a  consequence  of  the  reduction  in  running 
expenses  caused  by  the  projected  consolidation.  What 
is  it  that  you  wish  me  to  do  ?  " 

"  Agree  to  sign  the  bill  as  it  now  stands  if  it  passes 
the  legislature." 

Lyons  rested  his  head  on  his  hand  and  his  mouth 
389 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

moved  tremulously.     "If  I  am  elected  governor,"  he 
said,  "  I  wish  to  serve  the  people  honestly  and  fear- 


"  I  am  sure  of  it.  I  ask  you  to  point  out  to  me  in 
what  manner  this  bill  trenches  upon  the  rights  of  the 
people.  You  yourself  have  noted  the  crucial  conse- 
quence :  It  will  lower  the  price  of  gas.  If  at  the  same 
time  I  am  benefited  financially,  why  should  I  not  reap 
the  reasonable  reward  of  my  foresight  ?  " 

"  I  will  sign  the  bill,  Elton,  if  it  comes  to  me  for 
signature.  I  may  be  criticised  at  first,  but  the  im- 
proved public  service  and  reduction  of  the  gas  bills  will 
be  my  justification,  and  show  that  I  have  not  been  un- 
mindful of  the  interests  of  the  great  public  whose  bur- 
dens my  party  is  seeking  to  lighten." 

"  I  shall  count  on  you,  then,"  said  Elton,  after  a 
pause.  "  The  failure  of  the  bill  at  the  last  stage  when 
I  was  eipecting  its  passage  might  affect  my  affairs 
seriously." 

"  If  the  legislature  does  its  part,  I  will  do  mine,"  re- 
sponded Lyons,  augustly.  "  I  will  sign  the  bill  if  it 
comes  to  me  in  the  present  form." 

"  I  thank  you,  Governor." 

Lyons  looked  confused  but  happy  at  the  appellation. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Elton,  after  he  had  returned  the 
papers  to  his  pocket,  "  these  are  trying  times  for  men 
with  financial  obligations.  It  is  my  custom  to  be  frank 
and  not  to  mince  matters  where  important  interests  are 
concerned.  A  candidate  for  office  in  this  campaign  will 
need  the  use  of  all  his  faculties  if  he  is  to  be  successful. 
I  should  be  very  sorry  for  the  sake  of  my  bill  to  allow 
your  mind  to  be  distracted  by  solicitude  in  regard  to 
your  private  affairs.  Some  of  the  best  and  most  pru- 
390 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

dent  of  our  business  men  are  pressed  to-day  for  ready 
money.  I  am  in  a  position  to  give  you  temporary  as- 
sistance if  you  require  it.  In  justice  to  my  interests 
you  must  not  let  delicacy  stand  in  the  way  of  your  ac- 
cepting my  offer." 

Lyons's  bosom  swelled  with  the  tide  of  returning  hap- 
piness. He  had  scarcely  been  able  to  believe  his  ears. 
Yet  here  was  a  definite,  spontaneous  proposition  to  re- 
move the  incubus  which  weighed  upon  his  soul.  Here 
was  an  opportunity  to  redeem  the  bonds  of  the  Parsons 
estate  and  to  repair  his  damaged  self-respect.  It  seemed 
to  him  as  though  the  clouds  of  adversity  which  had  en- 
compassed him  had  suddenly  been  swept  away,  and  that 
Providence  was  smiling  down  at  him  as  her  approved 
and  favorite  son.  His  emotion  choked  his  speech.  His 
lip  trembled  and  his  eyes  looked  as  though  they  would 
fill  with  tears.  After  a  brief  pause  he  articulated  that 
he  was  somewhat  pressed  for  ready  money.  Some  ex- 
planation of  his  affairs  followed,  the  upshot  of  which 
was  that  Elton  agreed  to  indorse  Lyons's  promis- 
sory notes  held  by  the  banks  to  the  amount  of  $60,000, 
and  to  accept  as  collateral  for  a  personal  loan  of  $40,000 
certain  securities  of  new  local  enterprises  which  had  no 
present  marketable  value.  By  this  arrangement  his 
property  was  amply  protected  from  sacrifice  ;  he  would 
be  able  to  adjust  his  speculative  account  in  New  York  ; 
and  he  could  await  with  a  tranquil  soul  the  return  of 
commercial  confidence.  Lyons's  heart  was  overflowing 
with  satisfaction.  He  pressed  Elton's  hand  and  en- 
deavored to  express  his  gratitude  with  appropriate 
grandiloquence.  But  Elton  disclaimed  the  obligation, 
asserting  that  he  had  acted  merely  from  self-interest  to 
make  the  election  of  his  candidate  more  certain. 
391 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

The  loan  of  $40,000  was  completed  within  forty- 
eight  hours,  and  before  the  end  of  another  week  Lyons 
had  rescued  the  bonds  of  the  Parsons  estate  from  pawn, 
and  disposed  of  his  line  of  stocks  carried  by  Williams 
&  Van  Home.  They  were  sold  at  a  considerable  loss, 
but  he  made  up  his  mind  to  free  his  soul  for  the 
time  being  from  the  toils  and  torment  of  speculation 
and  to  nurse  his  dwarfed  resources  behind  the  bul- 
wark of  Elton's  relief  fund  until  the  financial  situation 
cleared.  He  felt  as  though  he  had  grown  ten  years 
younger,  and  without  confiding  to  Selma  the  details  of 
these  transactions  he  informed  her  ecstatically  that, 
owing  to  certain  important  developments,  due  partly  to 
the  friendliness  of  Horace  Elton,  the  outlook  for  their 
future  advancement  had  never  been  so  bright.  When 
a  month  later  he  was  nominated  as  Governor  he  threw 
himself  into  the  contest  with  the  convincing  ardor  of 
sincere,  untrammelled  faith  in  the  reforms  he  was  advo- 
cating. His  speeches  reflected  complete  concentration 
of  his  powers  on  the  issues  of  the  campaign  and  evoked 
enthusiasm  throughout  the  State  by  their  eloquent 
arraignment  of  corporate  rapacity  at  the  expense  of  the 
sovereign  people.  In  several  of  his  most  telling 
addresses  he  accused  the  national  administration  of 
pandering  to  the  un-American  gamblers  who  bought 
and  sold  stocks  in  Wall  street. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

LYONS  was  chosen  Governor  by  a  large  majority,  as 
Elton  had  predicted.  The  Republican  Party  was 
worsted  at  the  polls  and  driven  out  of  power  both  at 
Washington  and  in  the  State.  Lyons  ran  ahead  of  his 
ticket,  receiving  more  votes  than  the  presidential 
electors.  The  campaign  was  full  of  incidents  grateful 
to  Selma's  self  esteem.  Chief  among  these  was  the 
conspicuous  allusions  accorded  her  by  the  newspapers. 
The  campaign  itself  was  a  fervid  repetition  of  the  stir- 
ring scenes  of  two  years  previous.  Once  more  torch- 
light processions  in  vociferous  serried  columns  attested 
the  intensity  of  party  spirit.  Selma  felt  herself  an 
adept  through  her  former  experience,  and  she  lost  no 
opportunity  to  show  herself  in  public  and  bear  witness 
to  her  devotion  to  her  husband's  cause.  It  pleased  her 
to  think  that  the  people  recognized  her  when  she 
appeared  on  the  balcony  or  reviewing  stand,  and  that 
her  presence  evoked  an  increase  of  enthusiasm. 

But  the  newspaper  publicity  was  even  more  satisfy- 
ing, for  it  centred  attention  unequivocally  on  her. 
Columns  of  descriptive  matter  relative  to  her  husband's 
personality  began  to  appear  as  soon  as  it  became  obvious 
that  he  was  to  be  Governor.  These  articles  aimed  to 
be  exhaustive  in  their  character,  covering  the  entire 
scope  of  his  past  life,  disclosing  pitiless  details  in 
regard  to  his  habits,  tastes,  and  private  concerns. 
393 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Nothing  which  could  be  discovered  or  ferreted  out  was 
omitted  ;  and  most  of  these  biographies  were  illuminated 
by  a  variety  of  more  or  less  hideous  cuts  showing,  for 
example,  his  excellency  as  he  looked  as  a  school  boy, 
his  excellency  as  a  fledgling  attorney,  the  humble  home 
where  his  excellency  was  born,  and  his  excellency's 
present  stately  but  hospitable  residence  on  Benham's 
River  Drive.  Almost  every  newspaper  in  the  State  took 
its  turn  at  contributing  something  which  it  conceived 
to  be  edifying  to  this  reportorial  budget.  And  after 
the  Governor,  came  the  turn  of  the  Governor's  lady, 
as  she  was  called. 

Selma  liked  best  the  articles  devoted  exclusively  to 
herself  ;  where  she  appeared  as  the  special  feature  of  the 
newspaper  issue,  not  merely  as  an  adjunct  to  her  hus- 
band. But  she  liked  them  all,  and  she  was  most  benig- 
nant in  her  reception  of  the  several  newspaper  scribes, 
principally  of  her  own  sex,  who  sought  an  interview  for 
the  sake  of  copy.  She  withheld  nothing  in  regard  to 
her  person,  talents,  household,  or  tastes  which  would  in 
her  opinion  be  effective  in  print.  She  had  a  photo- 
graph of  herself  taken  in  simple,  domestic  matronly 
garb  to  supplement  those  which  she  already  possessed, 
one  of  which  revealed  the  magnificence  of  the  attire  she 
wore  at  the  President's  Reception  ;  another  portrayed 
Littleton's  earnest  bride,  and  still  a  fourth  disclosed  her 
as  the  wistful,  aspiring  school-mistress  on  the  threshold 
of  womanhood.  These,  and  the  facts  appropriate  to 
them,  she  meted  out  to  her  biographers  from  time  to 
time,  lubricating  her  amiable  confidences  with  the 
assertion  that  both  she  and  her  husband  felt  that  the 
people  were  entitled  to  be  made  familiar  with  the  lives 
of  their  public  representatives.  As  the  result  of  her 
394 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

gracious  behavior,  her  willingness  to  supply  interesting 
details  concerning  herself,  and  her  flattering  tendency 
to  become  intimate  on  the  spot  with  the  reporters  who 
visited  her,  the  newspaper  articles  in  most  cases  were  in 
keeping  with  Selma's  prepossessions.  Those  which 
pleased  her  most  emphasized  in  the  first  place  her  intel- 
lectual gifts  and  literary  talents,  intimating  delicately 
that  she  had  refused  brilliant  offers  for  usefulness  with 
her  pen  and  on  the  lecture  platform  in  order  to  become 
the  wife  of  Congressman  Lyons,  to  whom  her  counsel 
and  high  ideals  of  public  service  were  a  constant  stimu- 
lus. Emphasized  in  the  second  place  her  husband's  and 
her  own  pious  tastes,  and  strong  religious  convictions, 
to  which  their  constant  church  attendance  and  the 
simple  sanctity  of  their  American  home  bore  testimony. 
Emphasized  in  the  third  place — reproducing  ordinarily 
a  sketch  and  cut  of  her  drawing-room — her  great  social 
gifts  and  graces,  which  had  made  her  a  leader  of  society 
in  the  best  sense  of  the  word  both  in  Benham  and  in 
New  York.  A  few  of  the  articles  stated  in  judicious 
terms  that  she  had  been  twice  a  widow.  Only  one  of 
them  set  this  forth  in  conspicuous  and  opprobrious 
terms:  " Her  Third  Husband!  Our  Chief  Magis- 
trate's Wife's  Many  Marriages  ! "  Such  was  the  unsym- 
pathetic, alliterative  heading  of  the  malicious  statement 
which  appeared  in  an  opposition  organ.  It  did  no 
more  than  recall  the  fact  that  she  had  obtained  a 
divorce  from  her  first  husband,  who  had  in  his  despair 
taken  to  drink,  and  intimate  that  her  second  husband 
had  not  been  altogether  happy.  Selma  wept  when  she 
read  the  article.  She  felt  that  it  was  cruel  and  uncalled 
for ;  that  it  told  only  half  the  truth  and  traduced  her 
before  the  American  people.  She  chose  to  conceive 
395 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

that  it  had  been  inspired  by  Pauline  and  Mrs.  Hallett 
Taylor,  neither  of  whom  had  sent  her  a  word  of  con- 
gratulation on  her  promotion  to  be  the  Governor's  wife. 
Who  but  Pauline  knew  that  her  marriage  with  Little- 
ton had  not  been  completely  harmonious  ?  Who  but 
Mrs.  Taylor  or  one  of  her  set  would  have  the  malice  to 
insinuate  that  she  had  been  merciless  to  Babcock  ?  This 
was  one  libel  in  a  long  series  of  complimentary  produc- 
tions. The  representation  of  the  family  group  was  made 
complete  by  occasional  references  to  the  Governor  elect's 
mother — "Mother  Lyons,  the  venerable  parent  of  our 
chief  magistrate."  Altogether  Selma  felt  that  the  pict- 
ure presented  to  the  public  was  a  truthful  and  inspiring 
record  of  pious  and  enterprising  American  life,  which 
showed  to  the  community  that  its  choice  of  a  Governor 
had  been  wise  and  was  merited. 

Close  upon  the  election  and  these  eulogistic  biog- 
raphies came  the  inauguration,  with  Lyons's  eloquent 
address.  Selma,  of  course,  had  special  privileges — a 
reserved  gallery  in  the  State  House,  to  which  she  issued 
cards  of  admission  to  friends  of  her  own  selection. 
Occupying  in  festal  attire  the  centre  of  this  conspicu- 
ous group,  she  felt  that  she  was  the  cynosure  of  every 
eye.  She  perceived  that  she  was  constantly  pointed  out 
as  the  second  personage  of  the  occasion.  To  the  few 
legislators  on  the  floor  whom  she  already  knew  she  took 
pains  to  bow  from  her  seat  with  gracious  cordiality, 
intending  from  the  outset  to  aid  her  husband  by  capti- 
vating his  friends  and  conciliating  the  leaders  of  the 
opposition  party.  On  her  way  to  and  from  the  gallery 
she  was  joined  by  several  members,  to  each  of  whom  she 
tried  to  convey  subtly  the  impression  that  she  purposed 
to  take  an  earnest  interest  in  legislative  affairs,  and  that 
396 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

her  husband  would  be  apt  to  consult  her  in  regard  to 
close  questions.  On  the  morning  after  the  inaugura- 
tion she  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  her  own  portrait 
side  by  side  with  that  of  her  husband  on  the  front  page 
of  two  newspapers,  a  flattering  indication,  as  she 
believed,  that  the  press  already  recognized  her  value 
both  as  a  helpmate  to  him  and  an  ornament  to  the 
State.  She  took  up  her  life  as  the  Governor's  lady  feel- 
ing that  her  talents  and  eagerness  to  do  good  had  finally 
prevailed  and  that  true  happiness  at  last  was  in  store 
for  her.  She  was  satisfied  with  her  husband  and 
recognized  his  righteous  purpose  and  capacity  as  a 
statesman,  but  she  believed  secretly  that  his  rapid 
success  was  due  in  a  large  measure  to  her  genius.  Her 
prompting  had  inspired  him  to  make  a  notable  speech 
in  his  first  Congress.  Her  charms  and  clever  conversa- 
tion had  magnetized  Mr.  Elton  so  that  he  had  seen  fit 
to  nominate  him  for  Governor.  A  fresh  impulse  to  her 
self-congratulation  that  virtue  and  ability  were  reaping 
their  reward  was  given  a  few  weeks  later  by  the  an- 
nouncement which  Lyons  read  from  the  morning  news- 
paper that  the  firm  of  Williams  &  Van  Home  had 
failed  disastrously.  The  circumstances  attending  their 
down-fall  were  sensational.  It  appeared  that  Van 
Home,  the  office  partner,  who  managed  the  finances, 
had  shot  himself  as  the  culmination  of  a  series  of 
fraudulent  hypothecations  of  securities  and  misrep- 
resentations to  which  it  was  claimed  that  Williams 
was  not  a  party.  The  firm  had  been  hopelessly  in- 
solvent for  months,  and  had  been  forced  to  the  wall 
at  last  by  a  futile  effort  on  the  part  of  Van  Home 
to  redeem  the  situation  by  a  final  speculation  on  a 
large  scale.  It  had  failed  owing  to  the  continuation 
397 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

of  the  state  of  dry  rot  in  the  stock  market,  and  utter 
ruin  followed. 

The  regret  which  Lyons  entertained  as  he  read  aloud 
the  tragic  story  was  overshadowed  in  his  mind  by  his 
own  thankfulness  that  he  had  redeemed  the  bonds  and 
settled  his  account  with  them  before  the  crash  came. 
He  was  so  absorbed  by  his  own  emotions  that  he  failed 
to  note  the  triumphant  tone  of  his  wife's  ejaculation  of 
amazement.  "  Failed  !  Williams  &  Van  Home  failed  ! 
Oh,  how  did  it  happen  ?  I  always  felt  sure  that  they 
would  fail  sooner  or  later/' 

Selma  sat  with  tightly  folded  hands  listening  to  the 
exciting  narrative,  which  Lyons  read  for  her  edification 
with  the  urbanely  mournful  emphasis  of  one  who  has 
had  a  narrow  escape.  He  stopped  in  the  course  of  it  to 
relieve  any  solicitude  which  she  might  be  feeling  in 
regard  to  his  dealings  with  the  firm,  by  the  assertion 
that  he  had  only  two  months  previous  closed  out  his 
account  owing  to  the  conviction  that  prudent  investors 
were  getting  under  cover.  This  assurance  gave  the  epi- 
sode a  still  more  providential  aspect  in  Selma's  eyes. 
In  the  first  flush  of  her  gratitude  that  Flossy  had  been 
superbly  rebuked  for  her  frivolous  existence,  she  had 
forgotten  that  they  were  her  husband's  brokers.  More- 
over the  lack  of  perturbation  in  his  manner  was  not 
calculated  to  inspire  alarm.  But  the  news  that  Lyons 
had  been  shrewd  enough  to  escape  at  the  twelfth  hour 
without  a  dollar's  loss  heightened  the  justice  of  the  situ- 
ation. She  listened  with  throbbing  pulses  to  the  par- 
ticulars. She  could  scarcely  credit  her  senses  that  her 
irrepressible  and  light-hearted  enemy  had  been  con- 
founded at  last — confronted  with  bankruptcy  and  prob- 
able disgrace.  She  interrupted  the  reading  to  express 
398 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

her  scepticism  regarding  the  claim  that  Williams  had 
no  knowledge  of  the  frauds. 

' '  How  could  he  be  ignorant  ?  He  must  have  known. 
He  must  have  bribed  the  reporters  to  put  that  in  so  as 
to  arouse  the  sympathy  of  some  of  their  fashionable 
friends.  Van  Home  is  dead,  and  the  lips  of  the  dead 
are  sealed/' 

Selma  spoke  with  the  confidence  born  of  bitterness. 
She  was  pleased  with  her  acumen  in  discerning  the  true 
inwardness  of  the  case.  Her  husband  nodded  with 
mournful  acquiescence.  "It  would  seem,"  he  said, 
"  as  if  he  must  have  had  an  inkling,  at  least,  of  what 
was  going  on." 

"  Of  course  he  had.  Gregory  Williams,  with  all  his 
faults,  was  a  wide-awake  man.  I  always  said  that." 

Lyons  completed  the  reading  and  murmured  with  a 
sigh,  which  was  half  pity,  half  grateful  acknowledg- 
ment of  his  own  good  fortune — "  It's  a  bad  piece  of 
business.  I'm  glad  I  had  the  sense  to  act  promptly." 

Selma  was  ruminating.  Her  steel  bright  eyes  shone 
with  exultation.  Her  sense  of  righteousness  was  grati- 
fied and  temporarily  appeased.  "They'll  have  to  sell 
their  house,  of  course,  and  give  up  their  horses  and 
steam-yacht  ?  I  don't  see  why  it  doesn't  mean  that 
Flossy  and  her  husband  must  come  down  off  their  ped- 
estal and  begin  over  again  ?  It  follows,  doesn't  it,  that 
the  heartless  set  into  which  they  have  wormed  their 
way  will  drop  them  like  hot  coals  ?  " 

All  these  remarks  were  put  by  Selma  in  the  slightly 
interrogative  form,  as  though  she  were  courting  any 
argument  to  the  contrary  which  could  be  adduced  in 
order  to  knock  it  in  the  head.  But  Lyons  saw  no  rea- 
son to  differ  from  her  verdict.  "  It  means  necessarily 
399 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

great  mortification  for  them  and  a  curtailment  of  their 
present  mode  of  life,"  he  said.  "  I  am  sorry  for 
them." 

"  Sorry  ?  Of  course,  James,  it  is  distressing  to  hear 
that  misfortune  has  befallen  any  person  of  one's  ac- 
quaintance, and  so  far  as  Gregory  Williams  himself  is 
concerned  I  have  no  wish  to  see  him  punished  simply 
because  he  has  been  worldly  and  vainglorious.  You 
thought  him  able  in  a  business  way,  and  liked  to  meet 
him.  But  as  for  her,  Flossy,  his  wife,"  Selma  contin- 
ued, with  a  gasp,  "  it  would  be  sheer  hypocrisy  for  me 
to  assert  that  I  am  sorry  for  her.  I  should  deem  my- 
self unworthy  of  being  considered  an  earnest-minded 
American  woman  if  I  did  not  maintain  that  this  dis- 
grace which  has  befallen  them  is  the  logical  and  legiti- 
mate consequence  of  their  godless  lives — especially  of 
her  frivolity  and  presumptuous  indifference  to  spiritual 
influences.  That  woman,  James,  is  utterly  hostile  to 
the  things  of  the  spirit.  You  have  no  conception — I 
have  never  told  you,  because  he  was  your  friend,  and  I 
was  willing  to  let  bygones  be  bygones  on  the  surface  on 
your  account — you  have  no  conception  of  the  cross  her 
behavior  became  to  me  in  New  York.  From  almost  the 
first  moment  we  met  I  saw  that  we  were  far  apart  as  the 
poles  in  our  views  of  the  responsibilities  of  life.  She 
sneered  at  everything  which  you  and  I  reverence,  and 
she  set  her  face  against  true  progress  and  the  spread  of 
American  principles.  She  claimed  to  be  my  friend,  and 
to  sympathize  with  my  zeal  for  social  truth,  yet  all  the 
time  she  was  toadying  secretly  the  people  whose  luxuri- 
ous exclusiveness  made  me  tremble  sometimes  for  the 
future  of  our  country.  She  and  her  husband  were 
prosperous,  and  everything  he  touched  seemed  to  turn 
400 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

to  gold.  It  may  sound  irreverent,  James,  but  there  was 
a  time  during  my  life  in  New  York  when  I  was  discour- 
aged ;  when  it  seemed  as  though  heaven  were  mocking 
me  and  my  husband  in  our  homely  struggle  against  the 
forces  of  evil,  and  bestowing  all  its  favors  on  a  woman 
whose  example  was  a  menace  to  American  womanhood  ! 
Sorry  ?  Why  should  I  be  sorry  to  see  justice  triumph 
and  shallow  iniquity  rebuked  ?  I  would  give  Florence 
Williams  money  if  she  is  in  want,  but  I  am  thankful, 
very  thankful,  that  her  heartless  vanity  has  found  its 
proper  reward." 

Lyons  fingered  his  beard.  "  I  didn't  know  she  was  as 
bad  as  that,  Selma.  Now  that  they  have  come  to  grief, 
we  are  not  likely  to  be  brought  in  contact  with  them, 
and  in  all  probability  they  will  pass  out  of  our  lives. 
Williams  was  smart  and  entertaining,  but  I  never  liked 
his  taking  advantage  of  the  circumstances  of  my  having 
an  account  in  his  office  to  urge  me  to  support  a  measure 
at  variance  with  my  political  convictions." 

"  Precisely.  .  The  trouble  with  them  both,  James,  is 
that  they  have  no  conscience ;  and  it  is  eminently  just 
they  should  be  made  to  realize  that  people  who  lack  con 
science  cannot  prosper  in  this  country  in  the  long  run. 
'  They  have  loosed  the  awful  lightnings  of  his  terrible 
swift  sword/  " 

"I  say  'amen'  to  that  assuredly,  Selma,"  Lyons 
answered.  His  predilection  to  palliate  equivocal  cir- 
cumstances was  never  proof  against  clear  evidence  of 
moral  delinquency.  When  his  religious  scruples  were 
finally  offended,  he  was  grave  and  unrelenting. 

The  downfall  of  the  Williamses  continued  to  be  a 
sweet  solace  and  source  of  encouragement  to  Selma.     It 
made  her,  when  taken  in  conjunction  with  her  own 
401 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

recent  progress,  feel  that  the  whirligig  of  time  was 
working  in  her  behalf  after  all ;  and  that  if  she  perse- 
vered, not  merely  Flossy,  but  all  those  who  worshipped 
mammon,  and  consequently  failed  to  recognize  her 
talents,  would  be  made  to  bite  the  dust.  At  the 
moment  these  enemies  seemed  to  have  infested  Benham. 
Numerically  speaking,  they  were  unimportant,  but  they 
had  established  an  irritating,  irregular  skirmish  line, 
one  end  of  which  occupied  Wetmore  College,  another 
held  secret  midnight  meetings  at  Mrs.  Hallett  Taylor's. 
Rumors  of  various  undertakings,  educational,  semi- 
political,  artistic,  or  philanthropic,  agitated  or  directed 
by  this  fringe  of  society,  came  to  her  ears  from  time 
to  time,  but  she  heard  them  as  an  outsider.  When  she 
became  the  Governor's  wife  she  had  said  to  herself  that 
now  these  aristocrats  would  be  compelled  to  admit  her 
to  their  counsels.  But  she  found,  to  her  annoyance, 
that  the  election  made  no  difference.  Neither  Pauline 
nor  Mrs.  Taylor  nor  any  of  the  coterie  had  asked  her 
to  join  them,  and  she  was  unpleasantly  conscious  that 
there  were  people  on  the  River  Drive  who  showed  no 
more  desire  to  make  her  acquaintance  than  when  she 
had  been  Mrs.  Lewis  Babcock.  What  did  this  mean  ? 
It  meant  simply — she  began  to  argue — that  she  must 
hold  fast  to  her  faith  and  bide  her  time.  That  if  she 
and  her  friends  kept  a  bold  front  and  resisted  the 
encroachments  of  this  pernicious  spirit,  Providence 
would  interfere  presently  and  confound  these  enemies 
of  social  truth  no  less  obviously  than  it  had  already 
overwhelmed  Mrs.  Gregory  Williams.  As  the  \vife  of 
the  Governor,  she  was  clearly  in  a  position  to  maintain 
this  bold  front  effectively.  Every  mail  brought  to 
ner  requests  for  her  support,  and  the  sanction  of  her 
402 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

signature  to  social  or  charitable  enterprises.  Her 
hospital  was  flourishing  along  the  lines  of  the  policy 
which  she  had  indicated,  and  was  feeling  the  advantage 
of  her  political  prosperity.  She  was  able  to  give  the 
petition  in  behalf  of  Mrs.  Hamilton,  which  contained 
now  twenty-five  thousand  signatures,  fresh  value  and 
solemnity  by  means  of  an  autograph  letter  from  the 
Governor's  wife,  countersigned  by  the  Governor.  This, 
with  the  bulky  list  of  petitioners,  she  addressed  and 
despatched  directly  to  Queen  Victoria.  Her  presence 
was  in  constant  demand  at  all  sorts  of  functions,  at 
many  of  which  she  had  the  opportunity  to  make  a  few 
remarks  ;  to  express  the  welcome  of  the  State,  or  to 
utter  words  of  sympathy  and  encouragement  to  those 
assembled.  In  the  second  month  of  her  husband's 
administration,  she  had  the  satisfaction  of  greeting,  in 
her  double  capacity  as  newly-elected  President  of  the 
Benham  Institute  and  wife  of  the  Governor,  the  Feder- 
ation of  Women's  Clubs  of  the  United  States,  on  the 
occasion  of  its  annual  meeting  at  Benham.  This 
federation  was  the  incorporated  fruit  of  the  Congress 
of  Women's  Clubs,  which  Selma  had  attended  as  a  dele- 
gate just  previous  to  her  divorce  from  Babcock,  and  she 
could  not  refrain  from  some  exultation  at  the  progress 
she  had  made  since  then  as  she  sat  wielding  the  gavel 
over  the  body  of  women  delegates  from  every  State  in 
the  Union.  The  meeting  lasted  three  days.  Literary 
exercises  alternated  with  excursions  to  points  of  interest 
in  the  neighborhood,  at  all  of  which  she  was  in  author- 
ity, and  the  celebration  was  brought  to  a  brilliant  close 
by  a  banquet,  to  which  men  were  invited.  At  this  Selma 
acted  as  toastmaster,  introducing  the  speakers  of  the 
occasion,  which  included  her  own  husband.  Lyons 
403 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

made  a  graceful  allusion  to  her  stimulating  influence 
as  a  helpmate  and  her  executive  capacity,  which  elicited 
loud  applause.  Succeeding  this  meeting  of  the  Federa- 
tion of  Women's  Clubs  came  a  series  of  semi-public 
festivities  under  the  patronage  of  women — philanthropic, 
literary  or  social  in  character — for  the  fever  to  perpetuate 
in  club  form  every  congregation  of  free-born  citizens, 
except  on  election  day,  had  seized  Benham  in  common 
with  the  other  cities  of  the  country  in  its  grasp,  to  each 
of  which  the  Governor's  wife  was  invited  as  the 
principal  guest  of  honor.  Selma  thus  found  a  dozen 
opportunities  to  exhibit  herself  to  a  large  audience  and 
testify  to  her  faith  in  democratic  institutions. 

On  the  22d  of  February,  Washington's  birthday,  she 
held  a  reception  at  their  house  on  River  Drive,  for 
which  cards  had  been  issued  a  fortnight  previous.  She 
pathetically  explained  to  the  reporters  that,  had  the 
dimensions  and  resources  of  her  establishment  permitted, 
she  and  the  Governor  would  simply  have  announced 
themselves  at  home  to  the  community  at  large  ;  that 
they  would  have  preferred  this,  but  of  course  it  would 
never  do.  The  people  would  not  be  pleased  to  see  a  rabble 
confound  the  hospitality  of  the  chief  magistrate  and  his 
wife.  The  people  demanded  proper  dignity  from  their 
representatives  in  office.  The  list  of  invitations  which 
Selma  sent  out  was,  however,  comprehensive.  She  aimed 
to  invite  everyone  of  social,  public,  commercial  or 
political  importance.  A  full  band  was  in  attendance, 
and  a  liberal  collation  was  served.  Selma  confided  to 
some  of  her  guests,  who,  she  thought,  might  criticise  the 
absence  of  wine,  that  she  had  felt  obliged,  out  of  con- 
sideration for  her  husband's  political  prospects,  to  avoid 
wounding  the  feelings  of  total  abstainers.  The  enter- 
404 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

uainment  lasted  from  four  to  seven,  and  the  three  houri 
of  hand-shaking  provided  a  delicious  experience  to  the 
hostess.  She  gloried  in  the  consciousness  that  this  crush 
of  citizens,  representing  the  leaders  of  the  community 
in  the  widest  sense,  had  been  assembled  by  her  social 
gift,  and  that  they  had  come  to  offer  their  admiring 
homage  to  the  clever  wife  of  their  Governor.  It  grati- 
fied her  to  think  that  Pauline  and  Mrs.  Taylor  and  the 
people  of  that  class,  to  all  of  whom  she  had  sent  cards, 
should  behold  her  as  the  first  lady  of  the  State,  and 
mistress  of  a  beautiful  home,  dispensing  hospitality  on 
broad,  democratic  lines  to  an  admiring  constituency. 
When  Mr.  Horace  Elton  approached,  Selma  perpetrated 
a  little  device  which  she  had  planned.  As  they  were  in 
the  act  of  shaking  hands  a  very  handsome  rose  fell — 
seemingly  by  chance — from  the  bouquet  which  she 
carried.  He  picked  it  up  and  tendered  it  to  her,  but 
Selma  made  him  keep  it,  adding  in  a  lower  tone,  "  It  is 
your  due  for  the  gallant  friendship  you  have  shown  me 
and  my  husband."  She  felt  as  though  she  were  a  queen 
bestowing  a  guerdon  on  a  favorite  minister,  and  yet  a 
woman  rewarding  in  a  woman's  way  an  admirer's  devo- 
tion. She  meant  Elton  to  appreciate  that  she  under- 
stood that  his  interest  in  Lyons  was  largely  due  to  his 
partiality  for  her.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  could 
recognize  to  this  extent  his  chivalrous  conduct  without 
smirching  her  blameless  record  as  an  American  house- 
wife. 

Meantime  the  Governor  was  performing  his  public 
duties  with  becoming  dignity  and  without  much  men- 
tal friction.  The  legislature  was  engaged  in  digest- 
ing the  batch  of  miscellaneous  business  presented  for  its 
consideration,  among  which  was  Elton's  gas  cousolida^ 
405 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

tion  bill.  Already  the  measure  had  encountered  some 
opposition  in  committee,  but  Lyons  was  led  to  believe 
that  the  bill  would  be  passed  by  a  large  majority,  and 
that  its  opponents  would  be  conciliated  before  his  signa- 
ture was  required.  Lyons's  reputation  as  an  orator  had 
been  extended  by  his  term  in  the  House  of  Representa- 
tives and  his  recent  active  campaign,  and  he  was  in 
receipt  of  a  number  of  invitations  from  various  parts  of 
the  country  to  address  august  bodies  in  other  States. 
All  of  these  were  declined,  but  when,  in  the  month  of 
April,  opportunity  was  afforded  him  to  deliver  a  speech 
on  patriotic  issues  on  the  anniversary  of  the  battle  of 
Lexington,  he  decided,  with  Selma's  approval,  to  accept 
the  invitation.  He  reasoned  that  a  short  respite  from 
the  cares  of  office  would  be  agreeable  ;  she  was  attracted 
by  the  glamour  of  revisiting  New  York  as  a  woman  of 
note.  New  York  had  refused  to  recognize  her  superior- 
ity and  to  do  her  homage,  and  New  York  should  realize 
her  present  status,  and  what  a  mistake  had  been  made. 
The  speech  was  a  success,  and  the  programme  pro- 
vided for  the  entertainment  of  the  orator  and  his  wife 
included  the  hospitality  of  several  private  houses.  Selma 
felt  that  she  could  afford  to  hold  her  head  high  and  not 
to  thaw  too  readily  for  the  benefit  of  a  society  which  had 
failed  to  appreciate  her  worth  when  it  had  the  chance. 
She  was  the  wife  now  of  one  of  the  leading  public  men 
of  the  nation,  and  in  a  position  to  set  fashions,  not  to 
ask  favors.  Nevertheless  she  chose  on  the  evening 
before  their  return  to  Benham  to  show  herself  at  dinner 
at  Delmonico's,  just  to  let  the  world  of  so-called  fashion 
perceive  her  and  ask  who  she  was.  There  would  doubt- 
less be  people  there  who  knew  her  by  sight,  and  who, 
when  they  were  told  that  she  was  now  the  wife  of  GOT- 
406 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

ernor  Lyons,  would  regret  if  not  be  ashamed  of  their 
short-sightedness  and  snobbery.  She  wore  a  striking 
dress ;  she  encouraged  her  husband's  willingness  to  order 
an  elaborate  dinner,  including  champagne  (for  they 
were  in  a  champagne  country),  and  she  exhibited  a 
sprightly  mood,  looking  about  her  with  a  knowing  air  in 
observation  of  the  other  occupants  of  the  dining-room. 

While  she  was  thus  engaged  the  entrance  of  a  party 
of  six,  whom  the  head  waiter  conducted  witli  a  show  of 
attention  to  a  table  which  had  evidently  been  reserved 
for  them,  fettered  Selma's  attention.  She  stared  unable 
to  believe  her  eyes,  then  flushed  and  looked  indignant. 
Her  attention  remained  rivetted  on  this  party  while 
they  laid  aside  their  wraps  and  seated  themselves. 
Struck  by  the  annoyed  intensity  of  his  wife's  expression, 
Lyons  turned  to  follow  the  direction  of  her  gaze. 

"What  is  the  matter  ?"  he  said. 

For  a  few  moments  Selma  sat  silent  with  compressed 
lips,  intent  on  her  scrutiny. 

"  It's  an  outrage  on  decency,"  she  murmured,  at  last. 
"  How  dare  she  show  herself  here  and  entertain  those 
people?" 

"  Of  whom  are  you  talking,  Selma  ?  " 

"  The  Williamses.  Flossy  Williams  and  her  husband. 
The  two  couples  with  them  live  on  Fifth  Avenue,  and 
used  to  be  among  her  exclusive  friends.  Her  husband 
has  just  ordered  the  dinner.  I  saw  him  give  the  direc- 
tions to  the  waiter.  It  is  monstrous  that  they,  who  only 
a  few  months  ago  failed  disgracefully  and  were  supposed 
to  have  lost  everything,  should  be  going  on  exactly  as  if 
nothing  had  happened." 

"  People  in  New  York  have  the  faculty  of  getting  on 
their  feet  again  quickly  after  financial  reverses/'  said 
407 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

Lyons,  mildly.  "  Like  as  not  some  of  Williams's  friends 
have  enabled  him  to  make  a  fresh  start." 

"  So  it  seems/'  Selma  answered,  sternly.  She  sat 
back  in  her  chair  with  a  discouraged  air  and  neglected 
her  truffled  chicken.  "  It  isn't  right ;  it  isn't  decent." 

Lyons  was  puzzled  by  her  demeanor.  "  Why  should 
you  care  what  they  do  ?"  he  asked.  "We  can  easily 
avoid  them  for  the  future." 

"  Because — because,  James  Lyons,  I  can't  bear  to  see 
godless  people  triumph.  Because  it  offends  me  to  see  a 
man  and  woman,  who  are  practically  penniless  through 
their  own  evil  courses,  and  should  be  discredited  every- 
where, able  to  resume  their  life  of  vanity  and  extrava- 
gance without  protest." 

While  she  was  speaking  Selma  suddenly  became  aware 
that  her  eyes  had  met  those  of  Dr.  George  Page,  who 
was  passing  their  table  on  his  way  out.  Recognition  on 
both  sides  came  at  the  same  moment,  and  Selma  turned 
in  her  chair  to  greet  him,  cutting  off  any  hope  which 
he  may  have  had  of  passing  unobserved.  She  was  glad 
of  the  opportunity  to  show  the  company  that  she  was  on 
familiar  terms  with  a  man  so  well  known,  and  she  had 
on  her  tongue  what  she  regarded  as  a  piece  of  banter 
quite  in  keeping  with  his  usual  vein. 

"  How  d'y  do,  Dr.  Page  ?  We  haven't  met  for  a  long 
time.  You  do  not  know  my  husband,  Governor  Lyons, 
I  think.  Dr.  Page  used  to  be  our  family  physician 
when  I  lived  in  New  York,  James.  Everyone  here 
knows  that  he  has  a  very  large  practice." 

Selma  was  disposed  to  be  gracious  and  sprightly,  for 
•he  felt  that  Dr.  Page  must  surely  be  impressed  by  her 
appearance  of  prosperity. 

"  I  had  heard  of  your  marriage,  and  of  your  husband'i 
408 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

election      I  congratulate  you.     You  are  living  in  Ben- 
ham,  I  believe,  far  from  this  hurly-burly  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  little  bird  told  me  the  other  day  that  a  no 
less  distinguished  person  than  Dr.  Page  had  been  seen 
in  Benham  twice  during  the  last  three  months.  Of 
course  a  Governor's  wife  is  supposed  to  know  everything 
which  goes  on,  and  for  certain  reasons  I  was  very  much 
interested  to  hear  this  bit  of  news.  I  am  a  very  dis- 
creet woman,  doctor.  It  shall  go  no  further/' 

The  physician's  broad  brow  contracted  slightly,  but 
his  habitual  self-control  concealed  completely  the  incli- 
nation to  strangle  his  bright-eyed,  over-dressed  inquisitor. 
He  was  the  last  man  to  shirk  the  vicissitudes  of  playful 
speech,  and  he  preferred  this  mood  of  Selma's  to  her 
solemn  style,  although  his  privacy  was  invaded. 

"  I  should  have  remembered,"  he  said,  "  that  there  is 
nothing  in  the  world  which  Mrs.  Lyons  does  not  know 
by  intuition." 

"Including  the  management  of  a  hospital,  Dr.  Page. 
Perhaps  you  don't  know  that  I  am  the  managing  trus- 
tee of  a  large  hospital  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  was  informed  of  that  in  Benham.  I  should 
scarcely  venture  to  tell  you  what  my  little  bird  said. 
It  was  an  old  fogy  of  a  bird,  with  a  partiality  for  thor- 
ough investigation  and  scientific  methods,  and  a  thor- 
ough distrust  of  the  results  of  off-hand  inspiration  in  the 
treatment  of  disease." 

"  I  dare  say.  But  we  are  succeeding  splendidly. 
The  next  time  you  come  to  Benham  you  must  come  to 
see  me,  and  I  will  take  you  over  our  hospital.  I  don't 
despair  yet  of  converting  you  to  our  side,  just  as  you 
evidently  don't  despair  of  inducing  a  certain  lady  some 
day  to  change  her  mind.  I,  for  one,  think  that  she  is 
409 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

more  fitted  by  nature  to  be  a  wife  than  a  college  presi- 
dent, so  I  shall  await  with  interest  more  news  from  my 
little  bird."  Selma  felt  that  she  was  talking  to  greater 
advantage  than  almost  ever  before.  Her  last  remark 
banished  every  trace  of  a  smile  from  her  adversary's 
face,  and  he  stood  regarding  her  with  a  preternatural 
gravity,  which  should  have  been  appalling,  but  which 
she  welcomed  as  a  sign  of  serious  feeling  on  his  part. 
She  felt,  too,  that  at  last  she  had  got  the  better  of  the 
ironical  doctor  in  repartee,  and  that  he  was  taking  his 
leave  tongue-tied.  In  truth,  he  was  so  angry  that  he 
did  not  trust  himself  to  speak.  He  simply  glared  and 
departed. 

"Poor  fellow,"  she  said,  by  way  of  explanation  to 
Lyons,  ' '  I  suppose  his  emotion  got  the  better  of  him, 
because  he  has  loved  her  so  long.  That  was  the  Dr. 
Page  who  has  been  crazy  for  years  to  marry  Pauline 
Littleton.  When  he  was  young  he  married  a  woman  of 
doubtful  character,  who  ran  away  from  him.  I  used  to 
think  that  Pauline  was  right  in  refusing  to  sacrifice  her 
life  for  his  sake.  But  he  has  been  very  constant,  and  I 
doubt  if  she  has  originality  enough  to  keep  her  position 
as  president  of  Wetmore  long.  He  belongs  to  the  old 
school  of  medicine.  It  was  he  who  took  care  of  Wilbur 
when  he  died.  I  fancy  that  case  may  have  taught  him 
not  to  mistrust  truth  merely  because  it  isn't  labelled. 
But. I  bear  him  no  malice,  because  I  know  he  meant  to 
do  his  best.  They  are  just  suited  for  each  other,  and  I 
shall  be  on  his  side  after  this." 

The  interest  of  this  episode  served  to  restore  somewhat 

Selma's  serenity,  but  she  kept  her  attention  fixed  on  the 

table  where  the  Williamses  were  sitting,  observing  with 

a  sense  of  injury  their  gay  behavior.    To  all  appear- 

410 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

ances,  Flossy  was  as  light-hearted  and  volatile  0,0  ever. 
Her  attire  was  in  the  height  of  fashion.  Had  adversity 
taught  her  nothing?  Had  the  buffet  of  Providence 
failed  utterly  to  sober  her  frivolous  spirit  ?  It  seemed 
to  Selma  that  there  could  be  no  other  conclusion,  and 
though  she  and  Lyons  had  finished  dinner,  she  was  un- 
able to  take  her  eyes  off  the  culprits,  or  to  cease  to 
wonder  how  it  was  possible  for  people  with  nothing 
to  continue  to  live  as  though  they  had  everything. 
Her  moral  nature  was  stirred  to  resentment,  and  she 
sat  spell- bound,  seeking  in  vain  for  a  point  of  conso- 
lation. 

Meantime  Lyons,  like  a  good  American,  had  sent  for 
an  evening  paper,  and  was  deep  in  its  perusal.  A 
startled  ejaculation  from  him  aroused  Selma  from  her 
nightmare.  Her  husband  was  saying  to  her  across  the 
table  : 

"  My  dear,  Senator  Calkins  is  dead."  He  spoke  in  a 
solemn,  excited  whisper. 

"Our  Senator  Calkins?" 

"  Yes.  This  is  the  despatch  from  Washington : 
'  United  States  Senator  Calkins  dropped  dead  suddenly 
in  the  lobby  of  the  Senate  chamber,  at  ten  o'clock  this 
morning,  while  talking  with  friends.  His  age  was  52. 
The  cause  of  his  death  was  heart-failure.  His  decease 
has  cast  a  gloom  over  the  Capital,  and  the  Senate  ad- 
journed promptly  out  of  respect  to  the  memory  of  the 
departed  statesman.' " 

"  What  a  dreadful  thing  ! "  Selma  murmured. 

"  The  ways  of  Providence  are  inscrutable,"  said  Ly- 
ons. "No  one  could  have  foreseen  this  public  calam- 
ity." He  poured  out  a  glass  of  ice-water  and  drank  it 
feverishly. 

411 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"It's  fortunate  we  have  everything  arranged  to  re- 
turn to-morrow,  for  of  course  you  will  be  needed  at 
home." 

"  Yes.     Waiter,  bring  me  a  telegram." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  ?" 

"  Communicate  to  Mrs.  Calkins  our  sympathy  on  ac- 
count of  the  death  of  her  distinguished  husband." 

"  That  will  be  nice,"  said  Selma.  She  sat  for  some 
moments  in  silence  observing  her  husband,  and  spell- 
bound by  the  splendid  possibility  which  presented  itself. 
She  knew  that  Lyons's  gravity  and  agitation  were  not 
wholly  due  to  the  shock  of  the  catastrophe.  He,  like 
herself,  must  be  conscious  that  he  might  become  the 
dead  Senator's  successor.  He  poured  out  and  drained 
another  goblet  of  ice-water.  Twice  he  drew  himself  up 
•lightly  and  looked  around  the  room,  with  the  expres- 
sion habitual  to  him  when  about  to  deliver  a  public  ad- 
dress. Selma's  veins  were  tingling  with  excitement. 
Providence  had  interfered  in  her  behalf  again.  As  the 
wife  of  a  United  States  Senator,  everything  would  be 
within  her  grasp. 

"  James,"  she  said,  "  we  are  the  last  persons  in  the 
world  to  fail  in  respect  to  the  illustrious  dead,  but — of 
course  you  ought  to  have  Senator  Calkins's  place." 

Lyons  looked  at  his  wife,  and  his  large  lips  trembled. 
"  If  the  people  of  my  State,  Selma,  feel  that  I  am  the 
most  suitable  man  for  the  vacant  senatorship,  I  shall  be 
proud  to  serve  them." 

Selma  nodded  appreciatively.  She  was  glad  that  her 
husband  should  approach  the  situation  with  a  solemn 
sense  of  responsibility. 

"  They  are  sure  to  feel  that,"  she  said.  ' '  It  seems  to 
me  that  you  are  practically  certain  of  the  party  nomi- 
412 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

nation,  and  your  party  has  a  clear  majority  of  both 
branches  of  the  Legislature." 

Lyons  glanced  furtively  about  him  before  he  spoke. 
"  I  don't  see  at  the  moment,  Selma,  how  they  can  de- 
feat me." 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  body  of  Senator  Calkins  was  laid  to  rest  with 
appropriate  ceremonies  in  the  soil  of  his  native  State, 
and  his  virtues  as  a  statesman  and  citizen  were  cele- 
brated in  the  pulpit  and  in  the  public  prints.  On  the 
day  following  the  funeral  the  contest  for  his  place  began 
in  dead  earnest.  There  had  been  some  quiet  canvassing 
by  the  several  candidates  while  the  remains  were  being 
transported  from  Washington,  but  public  utterance  was 
stayed  until  the  last  rites  were  over.  Then  it  transpired 
that  there  were  four  candidates  in  the  field  ;  a  Congress- 
man, an  ex-Governor,  a  silver-tongued  orator  named 
Stringer,  who  was  a  member  of  the  upper  branch  of  the 
State  Legislature  and  who  claimed  to  be  a  true  defender 
of  popular  rights,  and  Hon.  James  0.  Lyons.  News- 
paper comment  concerning  the  candidacy  of  these  aspir- 
ants early  promulgated  the  doctrine  that  Governor  Lyons 
was  entitled  to  the  place  if  he  desired  it.  More  than  one 
party  organ  claimed  that  his  brilliant  services  had  given 
him  a  reputation  beyond  the  limit  of  mere  political 
prestige,  and  that  he  had  become  a  veritable  favorite 
son  of  the  State.  By  the  end  of  a  fortnight  the  ex-Gov- 
ernor had  withdrawn  in  favor  of  Lyons  ;  while  the  fol- 
lowing of  the  Congressman  was  recognized  to  be  incon- 
siderable, and  that  he  was  holding  out  in  order  to  obtain 
terms.  Only  the  silver-tongued  orator,  Stringer,  re- 
mained. On  him  the  opposition  within  the  party  had 
4J4 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

decided  to  unite  their  forces.  To  all  appearances  they 
were  in  a  decided  minority.  There  was  no  hope  that 
the  Republican  members  of  the  Legislature  would  join 
them,  for  it  seemed  scarcely  good  politics  to  rally  to 
the  support  of  a  citizen  whose  statesmanship  had  not 
been  tested  in  preference  to  the  Governor  of  the  State. 
It  was  conceded  by  all  but  the  immediate  followers  of 
Stringer  that  Lyons  would  receive  the  majority  vote  of 
either  house,  and  be  triumphantly  elected  on  the  first 
joint  ballot. 

And  yet  the  opposition  to  the  Governor,  though 
numerically  small,  was  genuine.  Stringer  was,  as  he 
described  himself,  a  man  of  the  plain  people.  That  is  he 
was  a  lawyer  with  a  denunciating  voice,  a  keen  mind, 
and  a  comprehensive  grasp  on  language,  who  was  still  an 
attorney  for  plaintiffs,  and  whose  ability  had  not  yet 
been  recognized  by  corporations  or  conservative  souls. 
He  was  where  Lyons  had  been  ten  years  before,  but  he 
had  neither  the  urbanity,  conciliatory  tendencies,  nor 
dignified,  solid  physical  properties  of  the  Governor.  He 
was  pleased  to  refer  to  himself  as  a  tribune  of  the  people, 
and  his  thin,  nervous  figure,  clad  in  a  long  frock-coat, 
with  a  yawning  collar  and  black  whisp  tie,  his  fiery 
utterance  and  relentless  zeal,  bore  out  the  character. 
He  looked  hungry,  and  his  words  suggested  that  he  was 
in  earnest,  carrying  conviction  to  some  of  his  colleagues 
in  the  Legislature.  The  election  at  which  Lyons  had 
been  chosen  chief  magistrate  had  brought  into  this  State 
government  a  sprinkling  of  socialistic  spirits,  as  they 
were  called,  who  applauded  vigorously  the  thinly  veiled 
allusions  which  Stringer  made  in  debate  to  the  luke- 
warm democracy  of  some  of  the  party  leaders.  When  he 
spoke  with  stern  contempt  of  those  who  played  fast  and 
415 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

loose  with  sacred  principles — who  were  staunch  friends  of 
the  humblest  citizens  on  the  public  platform,  and  behind 
their  backs  grew  slyly  rich  on  the  revenues  of  wealthy 
corporations,  everyone  knew  that  he  was  baiting  the  Gov- 
ernor. These  diatribes  were  stigmatized  as  in  wretched 
taste,  but  the  politicians  of  both  parties  could  not  help 
being  amused.  They  admitted  behind  their  hands  that 
the  taunt  was  not  altogether  groundless,  and  that 
Lyons  certainly  was  on  extremely  pleasant  terms  with 
prosperity  for  an  out  and  out  champion  of  popular 
rights.  Nevertheless  the  leading  party  newspapers 
termed  Stringer  a  demagogue,  and  accused  him  of 
endeavoring  to  foment  discord  in  the  ranks  of  the 
Democracy  by  questioning  the  loyalty  of  a  man  who  had 
led  them  to  notable  victory  twice  in  the  last  three 
years.  He  was  invited  to  step  down,  and  to  season  his 
aspirations  until  he  could  present  a  more  significant 
public  record.  What  had  he  done  that  entitled  him  to 
the  senatorship  ?  He  had  gifts  undeniably,  but  he  was 
young  and  could  wait.  This  was  a  taking  argument 
with  the  legislators,  many  of  whom  had  grown  gray  in 
the  party  service,  and  Lyons's  managers  felt  confident 
that  the  support  accorded  to  this  tribune  of  the  people 
would  dwindle  to  very  small  proportions  when  the  time 
came  to  count  noses. 

Suddenly  there  loomed  into  sight  on  the  political  hori- 
zon, and  came  bearing  down  on  Lyons  under  full  sail, 
Elton's  bill  for  the  consolidation  of  the  gas  companies. 
The  Benham  Sentinel  had  not  been  one  of  the  promoters 
of  Lyons's  senatorial  canvass,  but  it  had  not  espoused 
the  cause  of  any  of  his  competitors,  and  latterly  had  re- 
ferred in  acquiescent  terms  to  his  election  as  a  foregone 
conclusion.  He  had  not  happened  to  run  across  Elton 
416 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

dnring  these  intervening  weeks,  and  preferred  not  to 
encounter  him.  He  cherished  an  ostrich-like  hope  that 
Elton  was  in  no  haste  regarding  the  bill,  and  that  con- 
sequently it  might  not  pass  the  legislature  until  after 
his  election  as  Senator.  If  he  were  to  come  in  contact 
with  Elton,  the  meeting  might  jog  the  busy  magnate's 
memory.  It  was  a  barren  hope.  Immediately  after  the 
Sentinel  announced  that  Governor  Lyons  was  practical- 
ly sure  to  be  the  next  United  States  Senator,  the  gas 
bill  was  reported  favorably  by  the  committee  which  had 
it  in  charge,  and  was  advanced  rapidly  in  the  House. 
Debate  on  its  provisions  developed  that  it  was  not  to 
have  entirely  plain  sailing,  though  the  majority  recorded 
in  its  favor  on  the  first  and  second  readings  was  large. 
It  was  not  at  first  regarded  as  a  party  measure.  Its  sup- 
porters included  most  of  the  Kepublicans  and  more  than 
half  of  the  Democrats.  Yet  the  opposition  to  it  proceeded 
from  the  wing  of  the  Democracy  with  which  Stringer 
was  affiliated.  Elton's  interest  in  the  bill  was  well  un- 
derstood, and  the  work  of  pledging  members  in  advance, 
irrespective  of  party,  had  been  so  thoroughly  done,  that 
but  for  the  exigencies  of  the  senatorial  contest  it  would 
probably  have  slipped  through  without  notice  as  a  harm- 
less measure.  As  it  was,  the  opposition  to  it  in  the 
lower  branch  was  brief  and  seemed  unimportant.  The 
bill  passed  the  House  of  Representatives  by  a  nearly  two- 
thirds  vote  and  went  promptly  to  the  Senate  calendar. 
Then  suddenly  it  became  obvious  to  Lyons  not  merely 
that  Elton  was  bent  on  securing  its  passage  while  the 
present  Governor  was  in  office,  but  that  his  rival, 
Stringer,  had  conceived  the  cruel  scheme  of  putting  him 
m  the  position,  by  a  hue  and  cry  against  monopoly  and 
corporate  interests,  where  his  election  to  the  senator- 
417 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

ship  would  be  imperilled  if  he  did  not  veto  the  measure. 
By  a  caustic  speech  in  the  Senate  Stringer  drew  public 
attention  to  the  skilfully  concealed  iniquities  of  the  pro- 
posed franchise,  and  public  attention  thus  aroused  began 
to  bristle.  Newspapers  here  and  there  throughout  the 
state  put  forth  edicts  that  this  Legislature  had  been 
chosen  to  protect  popular  principles,  and  that  here  was 
an  opportunity  for  the  Democratic  party  to  fulfil  its 
pledges  and  serve  the  people.  Stringer  and  his  asso- 
ciates were  uttering  in  the  Senate  burning  words  against 
the  audacious  menace  of  what  they  termed  the  franchise 
octopus.  Did  the  people  realize  that  this  bill  to  com- 
bine gas  companies,  which  looked  so  innocent  on  its 
face,  was  a  gigantic  scheme  to  wheedle  them  out  of  a 
valuable  franchise  for  nothing  ?  Did  they  understand 
that  they  were  deliberately  putting  their  necks  in  the 
grip  of  a  monster  whose  tentacles  would  squeeze  and 
suck  their  life-blood  for  its  own  enrichment  ?  Stringer 
hammered  away  with  fierce  and  reiterated  invective. 
He  had  no  hope  of  defeating  the  bill,  but  he  confidently 
believed  that  he  was  putting  his  adversary,  the  Governor, 
in  a  hole.  It  had  been  noised  about  the  lobbies  by  the 
friends  of  the  measure  earlier  in  the  session  that  the 
Governor  was  all  right  and  could  be  counted  on.  Stringer 
reasoned  that  Lyons  was  committed  to  the  bill ;  that,  if  he 
signed  it,  his  opponents  might  prevent  his  election  as 
Senator  on  the  plea  that  he  had  catered  to  corporate  in- 
terests ;  that  if  he  vetoed  it,  he  would  lose  the  support 
of  powerful  friends  who  might  seek  to  revenge  them- 
selves by  uniting  on  his  opponent.  Stringer  recognized 
that  he  was  playing  a  desperate  game,  but  it  was  his 
only  chance.  One  thing  was  evident  already  :  As  a  re- 
mit of  the  exposure  in  the  Senate,  considerable  public 
418 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

hostility  to  the  bill  was  manifesting  itself.  Petitions 
for  its  defeat  were  in  circulation,  and  several  Senators 
who  had  been  supposed  to  be  friendly  to  its  passage 
veered  round  in  deference  to  the  views  of  their  constitu- 
ents. Its  defeat  had  almost  become  a  party  measure. 
A  majority  of  the  Democrats  in  the  Senate  were  claimed 
to  be  against  it.  Nevertheless  there  was  no  delay  on  the 
part  of  those  in  charge  in  pushing  it  to  final  action. 
They  had  counted  noses,  and  their  margin  of  support 
had  been  so  liberal  they  could  afford  to  lose  a  few  desert- 
ers. After  a  fierce  debate  the  bill  was  passed  to  be  en- 
grossed by  a  majority  of  eleven.  The  Democrats  in  the 
Senate  were  just  evenly  divided  on  the  ballot. 

What  would  the  Governor  do  ?  This  was  the  ques- 
tion on  every  on  e's  lips.  Would  he  sign  or  veto  the 
bill  ?  Public  opinion  as  represented  by  the  newspapers 
was  prompt  to  point  out  his  duty.  The  verdict  of  a 
leading  party  organ  was  that,  in  view  of  all  the  circum- 
stances, Governor  Lyons  could  scarcely  do  otherwise  than 
refuse  to  give  his  official  sanction  to  a  measure  which 
threatened  to  increase  the  burdens  of  the  plain  people. 
The  words  " in  view  of  all  the  circumstances"  appeared 
to  be  an  euphemism  for  "  in  view  of  his  ambition  to  be- 
come United  States  Senator."  Several  journals  declared 
unequivocally  that  it  would  become  the  duty  of  the 
party  to  withdraw  its  support  from  Governor  Lyons  in 
case  he  allowed  this  undemocratic  measure  to  become 
law.  On  the  other  hand,  certain  party  organs  ques- 
tioned the  justice  of  the  outcry  against  the  bill,  arguing 
that  the  merits  of  the  case  had  been  carefully  examined 
in  the  Legislature  and  that  there  was  no  occasion  for  the 
Governor  to  disturb  the  result  of  its  action.  On  the 
day  after  the  bill  was  sent  to  the  chief  magistrate,  an 
419 


UNLEAVENED  BKEAD 

editorial  appeared  in  the  Benham  Sentinel  present- 
ing an  exhaustive  analysis  of  its  provisions,  and  pointing 
out  that,  though  the  petitioners  might  under  certain  con- 
tingencies reap  a  reasonable  profit,  the  public  could  not 
fail  in  that  event  to  secure  a  lower  price  for  gas  and 
more  effective  service.  This  article  was  quoted  exten- 
sively throughout  the  State,  and  was  ridiculed  or  extolled 
according  to  the  sympathies  of  the  critics.  Lyons  re- 
ceived a  marked  copy  of  the  Sentinel  on  the  morning 
when  it  appeared.  He  recognized  the  argument  as  that 
which  he  had  accepted  at  the  time  he  promised  to  sign 
the  bill  if  he  were  elected  Governor.  In  the  course  of 
the  same  day  a  letter  sent  by  messenger  was  handed  to 
him  in  the  executive  chamber.  It  contained  simply 
two  lines  in  pencil  in  Elton's  handwriting — "It  con- 
tinues to  be  of  vital  importance  to  my  affairs  that  the 
pending  bill  shonld  receive  your  signature."  That  was 
obviously  a  polite  reminder  of  their  agreement ;  an  in- 
timation that  the  circumstances  had  not  altered,  and 
that  it  was  incumbent  on  him  to  perform  his  part  of 
their  compact.  Obviously,  too,  Horace  Elton  took  for 
granted  that  a  reminder  was  enough,  and  that  he  would 
keep  his  word.  He  had  promised  to  sign  the  bill.  He 
had  given  his  word  of  honor  to  do  so,  and  Elton  was 
relying  on  his  good  faith. 

The  situation  had  become  suddenly  oppressive  and 
disheartening.  Just  when  his  prospects  seemed  assured 
this  unfortunate  obstacle  had  appeared  in  his  path,  and 
threatened  to  confound  his  political  career.  He  must 
sign  the  bill.  And  if  he  signed  it,  in  all  probability  he 
would  lose  the  senatorship.  His  enemies  would  claim 
that  the  party  could  not  afford  to  stultify  itself  by  the 
choice  of  a  candidate  who  favored  monopolies.  He  had 
420 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

given  his  promise,  the  word  of  a  man  of  honor,  and  a 
business  man.  What  escape  was  there  from  the  pre- 
dicament ?  If  he  vetoed  the  bill,  would  he  not  be  a  liar 
and  a  poltroon  ?  If  he  signed  it,  the  senatorship  would 
slip  through  his  fingers.  The  thought  occurred  to  him 
to  send  for  Elton  and  throw  himself  on  his  mercy,  but 
he  shrank  from  such  an  interview.  Elton  was  a  busi- 
ness man,  and  a  promise  was  a  promise.  He  had  enjoyed 
the  consideration  for  his  promise  ;  his  notes  were  secure 
and  the  hypothecated  bonds  had  been  redeemed.  He 
was  on  his  feet  and  Governor,  thanks  to  Elton's  inter- 
position, and  now  he  was  called  on  to  do  his  part — to 
pay  the  fiddler.  He  must  sign  the  bill. 

Lyons  had  five  days  in  which  to  consider  the  matter. 
At  the  end  of  that  time  if  he  neither  signed  nor  vetoed 
the  bill,  it  would  become  law  without  his  signature.  He 
was  at  bay,  and  the  time  for  deliberation  was  short.  An 
incubus  of  disappointment  weighed  upon  his  soul  and 
clouded  his  brow.  His  round,  smooth  face  looked  grieved. 
It  seemed  cruel  to  him  that  such  an  untoward  piece  of 
fortune  should  confront  him  just  at  the  moment  when 
this  great  reward  for  his  political  services  was  within  his 
grasp  and  his  opportunities  for  eminent  public  usefulness 
assured.  He  brooded  over  his  quandary  in  silence  for 
twenty-four  hours.  On  the  second  day  he  concluded  to 
speak  of  the  matter  to  Selma.  He  knew  that  she  kept  a 
general  run  of  public  affairs.  Not  infrequently  she  had 
asked  him  questions  concerning  measures  before  the  Leg- 
islature, and  he  was  pleasantly  aware  that  she  was  am- 
bitious to  be  regarded  as  a  politician.  But  up  to  this 
time  there  had  been  no  room  for  question  as  to  what  his 
action  as  Governor  should  be  in  respect  to  any  measure. 
It  had  happened,  despite  his  attitude  of  mental  comrade- 
421 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

ship  with  his  wife,  that  he  had  hitherto  concealed  from 
her  his  most  secret  transactions.  He  had  left  her  in  the 
dark  in  regard  to  his  true  dealings  with  Williams  & 
Van  Home;  he  had  told  her  nothing  as  to  his  straitened 
circumstances,  the  compact  by  which  he  had  been 
made  Governor,  and  his  relief  at  the  hands  of  Elton 
from  threatened  financial  ruin.  Reluctance,  born  of 
the  theory  in  his  soul  that  these  were  accidents  in 
his  life,  not  typical  happenings,  had  sealed  his  lips. 
He  was  going  to  confide  in  her  now  not  because  he 
expected  that  Selma's  view  of  this  emergency  would 
differ  from  his  own,  but  in  order  that  she  might  learn 
before  he  acted  that  he  was  under  an  imperative  obli- 
gation to  sign  the  bill.  While  he  was  sitting  at  home 
in  the  evening  with  the  topic  trembling  on  his  tongue, 
Selma  made  his  confession  easy  by  saying,  "I  have  taken 
for  granted  that  you  will  veto  the  gas  bill." 

Selma  had  indeed  so  assumed.  In  the  early  stages  of 
the  bill  she  had  been  ignorant  of  its  existence.  During 
the  last  fortnight,  since  the  controversy  had  reached  an 
acute  phase  and  public  sentiment  had  been  aroused 
against  its  passage,  she  had  been  hoping  that  it  would 
pass  so  that  Lyons  might  have  the  glory  of  returning  it 
to  the  Legislature  without  his  signature.  She  had  rea- 
soned that  he  would  be  certain  to  veto  the  measure,  for 
the  bill  was  clearly  in  the  interest  of  monopoly,  and 
though  her  nerves  were  all  on  edge  with  excitement  over 
the  impending  election  of  a  Senator,  she  had  not  inter- 
fered because  she  took  for  granted  that  it  was  unnecessary. 
Even  when  Lyons,  after  reading  the  article  in  the  Sen- 
tinel, had  dropped  the  remark  that  the  measure  was 
really  harmless  and  the  outcry  against  it  unwarranted, 
she  had  supposed  that  he  was  merely  seeking  to  be  mag- 
422 


UNLEAVENED  BEEAD 

nanimous.  She  had  forgotten  this  speech  until  it  was 
recalled  by  Lyons's  obvious  state  of  worry  during  the  last 
few  days.  She  had  noticed  this  at  first  without  special 
concern,  believing  it  due  to  the  malicious  insinuations  of 
Stringer.  Now  that  the  bill  was  before  him  for  signa- 
ture there  could  be  no  question  as  to  his  action.  Never- 
theless her  heart  had  suddenly  been  assailed  by  a  horri- 
ble doubt,  and  straightway  her  sense  of  duty  as  a  wife 
and  of  duty  to  herself  had  sought  assurance  in  a  crucial 
inquiry. 

"  I  was  going  to  speak  to  you  about  that  this  evening. 
I  wish  to  tell  you  the  reasons  which  oblige  me  to  sign 
the  bill,"  he  answered.  Lyons's  manner  was  subdued 
and  limp.  Even  his  phraseology  had  been  stripped  of 
its  stateliness. 

"  Sign  the  bill  ? "  gasped  Selma.  "  If  you  sign  it, 
you  will  lose  the  senatorship."  She  spoke  like  a  proph- 
etess, and  her  steely  eyes  snapped. 

"  That  is  liable  to  be  the  consequence  I  know.  I  will 
explain  to  you,  Selma.  You  will  see  that  I  am  bound 
in  honor  and  cannot  help  myself." 

"  In  honor  ?  You  are  bound  in  honor  to  your  party 
— bound  in  honor  to  me  to  veto  it." 

"  Wait  a  minute,  Selma.  You  must  hear  my  reasons. 
Before  I  was  nominated  for  Governor  I  gave  Horace 
Elton  my  word,  man  to  man,  that  I  would  sign  this  gas 
bill.  It  is  his  bill.  I  promised,  if  I  were  elected  Governor, 
not  to  veto  it.  At  the  time,  I — I  was  financially  em- 
barrassed. I  did  not  tell  you  because  I  was  unwilling  to 
distress  you,  but — er — my  affairs  in  New  York  were  in 
disorder,  and  I  had  notes  here  coming  due.  Nothing 
was  said  about  money  matters  between  Elton  and  me 
until  he  had  agreed  to  support  me  as  Governor.  Then 
423 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

he  offered  to  help  me,  and  I  accepted  his  aid.  Don't 
you  see  that  I  cannot  help  myself  ?  That  I  must  sign 
the  bill  ?» 

Selma  had  listened  in  amazement.  "It's  a  trap/' 
she  murmured.  "Horace  Elton  has  led  you  into  a 
trap."  The  thought  that  Elton's  politeness  to  her  was 
a  blind,  and  that  she  had  been  made  sport  of,  took 
precedence  in  her  resentment  even  of  the  annoyance 
caused  her  by  her  husband's  deceit. 

"  Why  did  yon  conceal  all  this  from  me  ?  "  she  asked, 
tragically. 

"  I  should  not  have  done  so,  perhaps." 

"  If  you  had  told  me,  this  difficulty  never  would  have 
arisen.  Pshaw  !  It  is  not  a  real  difficulty.  Surely  you 
must  throw  Elton  over.  Surely  you  must  veto  the  bill. " 

"  Throw  him  over,"  stammered  Lyons.  "  You  don't 
understand,  Selma.  I  gave  my  word  as  a  business  man. 
I  am  under  great  obligations  to  him."  He  told  briefly 
the  details  of  the  transaction ;  even  the  hypothecation 
of  the  Parsons  bonds.  For  once  in  his  life  he  made  a 
clean  breast  of  his  bosom's  perilous  stuff.  He  was  ready 
to  bear  the  consequences  of  his  plight  rather  than  be 
false  to  his  man's  standard  of  honor,  and  yet  his  wife's 
opposition  had  fascinated  as  well  as  startled  him.  He 
set  forth  his  case — the  case  which  meant  his  political 
checkmate,  then  waited.  Selma  had  risen  and  stood 
with  folded  arms  gazing  into  distance  with  the  far  away 
look  by  which  she  was  wont  to  subdue  mountains. 

"  Have  yon  finished  ?  "  she  asked.  "  What  yon  are 
proposing  to  do  is  to  sacrifice  your  life — and  my  life, 
James  tyons,  for  the  sake  of  a — er — fetish.  Horace 
Elton,  under  the  pretence  of  friendship  for  us,  has  taken 
advantage  of  your  necessities  to  extract  from  yon  a 
424 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

promise  to  support  an  evil  scheme— a  bill  to  defraud 
the  plain  American  people  of  their  rights — the  people 
whose  interests  you  swore  to  protect  when  you  took  the 
oath  as  Governor.  Is  a  promise  between  man  and 
man,  as  you  call  it,  more  sacred  than  everlasting  truth 
itself  ?  More  binding  than  the  tie  of  principle  and 
political  good  faith  ?  Will  you  refuse  to  veto  a  bill 
which  you  know  is  a  blow  at  liberty  in  order  to  keep  a 
technical  business  compact  with  an  over-reaching  capi- 
talist, who  has  no  sympathy  with  our  ideas  ?  I  am  dis- 
appointed in  you,  James.  I  thought  you  could  see 
clearer  than  that." 

Lyons  sighed.  "  I  examined  the  bill  at  the  time  with 
some  care,  and  did  not  think  it  inimical  to  the  best 
public  interest ;  but  had  I  foreseen  the  objections  which 
would  be  raised  against  it,  I  admit  that  I  never  would 
have  agreed  to  sign  it." 

"  Precisely.  You  were  taken  in."  She  meant  in  her 
heart  that  they  had  both  been  taken  in.  "  This  is  not 
a  case  of  commercial  give  and  take — of  purchase  and  sale 
of  stocks  or  merchandise.  The  eternal  verities  are  con- 
cerned. You  owe  it  to  your  country  to  break  your  word. 
The  triumph  of  American  principles  is  paramount  to 
your  obligation  to  Elton.  Whom  will  this  gas  bill  bene- 
fit but  the  promoters  ?  Your  -view,  James,  is  the  old- 
fashioned  view.  Just  as  I  said  to  you  the  other  day  that 
Dr.  Page  is  old-fashioned  in  his  views  of  medicine,  so  it 
seems  to  me,  if  yon  will  forgive  my  saying  so,  you  are, 
in  this  instance,  behind  the  times.  And  you  are  not 
usually  behind  the  times.  It  has  been  one  of  the  joyous 
features  of  my  marriage  with  you  that  you  have  not  lacked 
American  initiative  and  independence  of  conventions. 
I  wish  you  had  confided  in  me.  You  were  forced  to  give 
425 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

that  promise  by  your  financial  distress.  Will  yon  let  an 
old-fashioned  theory  of  private  honor  make  you  a  traitor 
to  our  party  cause  and  to  the  sovereign  people  of  our 
country  ?  " 

Lyons  bowed  his  head  between  his  hands.  "You 
make  me  see  that  there  are  two  sides  to  the  question, 
Selma.  It  is  true  that  I  was  not  myself  when  Elton  got 
my  promise  to  sign  the  bill.  My  mind  had  been  on  the 
rack  for  weeks,  and  I  was  unfit  to  form  a  correct  esti- 
mate of  a  complicated  public  measure.  But  a  promise 
is  a  promise." 

"  What  can  he  do  if  you  break  it  ?  He  will  not  kill 
you." 

"  He  will  not  kill  me,  no ;  but  he  will  despise  me." 
Lyons  reflected,  as  he  spoke,  that  Elton  would  be  un- 
able to  injure  him  financially.  He  would  be  able  to  pay 
his  notes  when  they  became  due,  thanks  to  the  improve- 
ment in  business  affairs  which  had  set  in  since  the  be- 
ginning of  the  year. 

"  And  your  party — the  American  people  will  despise 
you  if  you  sign  the  bill.  Whose  contempt  do  you  fear 
the  most  ?  " 

"  I  see — I  see,"  he  murmured.  "  I  cannot  deny  there 
is  much  force  in  your  argument,  dear.  I  fear  there  can 
be  no  doubt  that  if  I  let  the  bill  become  law,  public 
clamor  will  oblige  the  party  to  throw  me  over  and  take 
up  Stringer  or  some  dark  horse.  That  means  a  serious 
setback  to  my  political  progress;  means  perhaps  my 
political  ruin." 

"  Your  political  suicide,  James.     And  there  is  another 

side  to  it,"  continued  Selma,  pathetically.     "  My  side 

I  wish  you  to  think  of  that.     I  wish  you  to  realize  that, 

if  you  yield  to  this  false  notion  of  honor,  you  will  inter- 

426 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

fere  with  the  development  of  my  life  no  less  than  your 
own.  As  you  know,  I  think,  I  became  your  wife  because 
I  felt  that  as  a  public  woman  working  at  your  side  in 
behalf  of  the  high  purposes  in  which  we  had  a  common 
sympathy,  I  should  be  a  greater  power  for  good  than  if 
I  pursued  alone  my  career  as  a  writer  and  on  the  lecture 
platform.  Until  to-day  I  have  felt  sure  that  I  had  made 
no  mistake — that  we  had  made  no  mistake.  Without 
disrespect  to  the  dead,  I  may  say  that  for  the  first  time 
in  my  life  marriage  has  meant  to  me  what  it  should 
mean,  and  has  tended  to  bring  out  the  best  which  is  in 
me.  I  have  grown;  I  have  developed;  I  have  been  recog- 
nized. We  have  both  made  progress.  Only  a  few  days 
ago  I  was  rejoicing  to  think  that  when  you  became  a 
United  States  Senator,  there  would  be  a  noble  field  for 
my  abilities  as  well  as  yours.  We  are  called  to  high  of- 
fice, called  to  battle  for  great  principles  and  to  lead  the 
nation  to  worthy  things.  And  now,  in  a  moment  of  men- 
tal blindness,  you  are  threatening  to  spoil  all.  For  my 
sake,  if  not  for  your  own,  James,  be  convinced  that  you 
do  not  see  clearly.  Do  not  snatch  the  cup  of  happiness 
from  my  lips  just  as  at  last  it  is  full.  Give  me  the  chance 
to  live  my  own  life  as  I  wish  to  live  it." 

There  was  a  brief  silence.  Lyons  rose  and  let  fall  his 
hand  on  the  table  with  impressive  emphasis.  His  mo- 
bile face  was  working  with  emotion  ;  his  eyes  were  filled 
with  tears.  "I  will  veto  the  bill,"  he  said,  grandilo- 
quently. "  The  claims  of  private  honor  must  give  way 
to  the  general  welfare,  and  the  demands  of  civilization. 
You  have  convinced  me,  Selma— my  wife.  My  point 
of  view  was  old-fashioned.  Superior  ethics  permit  no 
other  solution  of  the  problem.  Superior  ethics,"  he 
repeated,  as  though  the  phrase  gave  him  comfort, 
427 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

"  would  not  justify  a  statesman  in  sacrificing  his  party 
and  Ms  own  powers — aye,  and  his  political  conscience — 
in  order  to  keep  a  private  compact.  I  shall  veto  the 
bill/' 

"  Thank  God  for  that,"  she  murmured. 

Lyons  stepped  forward  and  put  his  arm  around  her. 
"You  shall  live  your  own  life  as  you  desire,  Selma. 
No  act  of  mine  shall  spoil  it." 

"  Superior  ethics  taught  you  by  your  wife !  Your 
poor,  wise  wife  in  whom  you  would  not  confide  ! "  She 
tapped  him  playfully  on  his  fat  cheek.  "  Naughty 
boy  ! " 

"There  are  moments  when  a  man  sees  through  a 
glass,  darkly,"  he  answered,  kissing  her  again.  "This 
is  a  solemn  decision  for  us,  Selma,  Heaven  has  willed 
that  you  should  save  me  from  my  own  errors,  and  my 
own  blindness." 

"  We  shall  be  very  happy,  James.  You  will  be 
chosen  Senator,  and  all  will  be  as  it  should  be.  The 
clouds  on  my  horizon  are  one  by  one  passing  away,  and 
justice  is  prevailing  at  last.  What  do  you  suppose  I 
heard  to-day  ?  Pauline  Littleton  is  to  marry  Dr.  Page. 
Mrs.  Earle  told  me  so.  Pauline  has  written  to  the  trus- 
tees that  after  the  first  of  next  January  she  will  cease  to 
serve  as  president  of  Wetmore  ;  that  by  that  time  the 
college  will  be  running  smoothly,  so  that  a  successor  can 
take  up  the  work.  There  is  a  chance  now  that  the 
trustees  will  choose  a  genuine  educator  for  the  place  — 
some  woman  of  spontaneous  impulses  and  a  large  out- 
look on  life.  Pauline's  place  is  by  the  domestic  hearth. 
She  could  never  have  much  influence  on  progress." 

"  I  do  not  know  her  very  well,"  said  Lyons.  "  But 
I  know  this,  Selma,  you  would  be  just  the  woman  for 
428 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

the  place  if  yon  were  not  my  wife.  Yon  wonld  make 
an  ideal  president  of  a  college  for  progressive  women." 

"I  am  snited  for  the  work,  and  I  think  I  am  progres- 
sive," she  admitted.  "But  that,  of  course,  is  ont  of 
the  qnestion  for  me  as  a  married  woman  and  the  wife  of 
a  United  States  Senator.  Bnt  I  am  glad,  James,  to 
have  yon  appreciate  my  strong  points." 

On  the  following  day  Lyons  vetoed  the  gas  bill.  His 
message  to  the  Legislature  described  it  as  a  measure 
which  disposed  of  a  valuable  franchise  for  nothing,  and 
which  wonld  create  a  monopoly  detrimental  to  the 
rights  of  the  public.  This  action  met  with  much  pub- 
lic approval.  One  newspaper  expressed  well  the  feeling 
of  the  community  by  declaring  that  the  Governor  had 
faced  the  issue  squarely  and  shown  the  courage  of  his 
well-known  convictions.  The  Benham  Sentinel  was 
practically  mute.  It  stated  merely  in  a  short  editorial 
that  it  was  disappointed  in  Governor  Lyons,  and  that 
he  had  played  into  the  hands  of  the  demagogues  and 
the  sentimentalists.  It  suggested  to  the  Legislature  to 
show  commendable  independence  by  passing  the  bill 
over  his  veto.  But  this  was  obviously  a  vain  hope. 

The  vote  in  the  House  against  the  veto  not  merely 
fell  short  of  the  requisite  two-thirds,  but  was  less  than 
a  plurality,  showing  that  the  action  of  the  chief  magis- 
trate had  reversed  the  sentiment  of  the  Legislature.  The 
force  of  Stringer's  opposition  was  practically  killed  by 
the  Governor's  course.  He  had  staked  everything  on 
the  chance  that  Lyons  would  see  fit  to  sign  the  bill. 
When  the  party  caucus  for  the  choice  of  a  candidate  for 
Senator  was  held  a  few  days  later,  his  followers  recog- 
nized the  hopelessness  of  his  ambition  and  prevailed  on 
him  to  withdraw  his  name  from  consideration.  Lyons 
429 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

was  elected  Senator  of  the  United  States  by  a  party 
vote  by  the  two  branches  of  the  Legislature  assembled  in 
solemn  conclave.  Apparently  Elton  had  realized  that 
opposition  was  useless,  and  that  he  must  bide  his  time 
for  revenge.  Booming  cannon  celebrated  the  result  of 
the  proceedings,  and  Selma,  waiting  at  home  on  the 
River  Drive,  received  a  telegram  from  the  capital 
announcing  the  glad  news.  Her  husband  was  United 
States  Senator,  and  the  future  stretched  before  her  big 
with  promise.  She  had  battled  with  life,  she  had  suf- 
fered, she  had  held  fast  to  her  principles,  and  at  last 
she  was  rewarded. 

Lyons  returned  to  Benham  by  the  afternoon  train,  and 
a  salute  of  one  hundred  guns  greeted  him  on  his  ar- 
rival. He  walked  from  the  station  like  any  private  cit- 
izen. Frequent  cheers  attended  his  progress  to  his 
house.  In  the  evening  the  shops  and  public  buildings 
were  illuminated,  and  the  James  0.  Lyons  Cadets,  who 
considered  themselves  partly  responsible  for  his  rapid 
promotion,  led  a  congratulatory  crowd  to  the  River 
Drive.  The  Senator-elect,  in  response  to  the  music  of 
a  serenade,  stepped  out  on  the  balcony.  Selma  waited 
behind  the  window  curtain  until  the  enthusiasm  had 
subsided  ;  then  she  glided  forth  and  showed  herself  at 
his  elbow.  A  fresh  round  of  cheers  for  the  Senator's 
wife  followed.  It  was  a  glorious  night.  The  moon 
shone  brightly.  The  street  was  thronged  by  the  popu- 
lace, and  glittered  with  the  torches  of  the  cadets. 
Lyons  stood  bareheaded.  His  large,  round,  smooth  face 
glistened,  and  the  moonbeams,  bathing  his  chin  beard, 
gave  him  the  effect  of  a  patriarch,  or  of  one  inspired. 
He  raised  his  hand  to  induce  silence,  then  stood  for  a 
moment,  as  was  his  habit  before  speaking,  with  an  ex- 
430 


UNLEAVENED  BREAD 

pression  as  though  he  were  struggling  with  emotion  or 
busy  in  silent  prayer. 

"  Fellow  citizens  of  Benham,"  he  began,  slowly, 
' '  compatriots  of  the  sovereign  State  which  has  done  me 
to-day  so  great  an  honor,  I  thank  you  for  this  precious 
greeting.  You  are  my  constituents  and  my  brothers. 
I  accept  from  your  hands  this  great  trust  of  office, 
knowing  that  I  am  but  your  representative,  knowing 
that  my  mission  is  to  bear  constant  witness  to  the  love 
of  liberty,  the  love  of  progress,  the  love  of  truth  which 
are  enshrined  in  the  hearts  of  the  great  American  peo- 
ple. Your  past  has  been  ever  glorious;  your  future 
looms  big  with  destiny.  Still  leaning  on  the  God  of  our 
fathers,  to  whom  our  patriot  sires  have  ever  turned, 
and  whose  favors  to  our  beloved  country  are  seen  in  your 
broad  prairies  tall  with  fruitful  grain,  and  your  mighty 
engines  of  commerce,  I  take  up  the  work  which  you 
have  given  me  to  do,  pledged  to  remain  a  democrat  of 
the  democrats,  an  American  of  the  Americans." 

Selma  heard  the  words  of  this  peroration  with  a  sense 
of  ecstasy.  She  felt  that  he  was  speaking  for  them 
both,  and  that  he  was  expressing  the  yearning  intention 
of  her  soul  to  attempt  and  perform  great  things.  She, 
stood  gazing  straight  before  her  with  her  far  away, 
seraph  look,  as  though  she  were  penetrating  the  future 
oven  into  Paradise. 


431 


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